


sotto voce

by 64907



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, School, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 03:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 41,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64907/pseuds/64907
Summary: After being forced to leave his former job, Sho moves to Tokyo in search of something new.





	sotto voce

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's Nino's birthday and I should be updating the other thing, but because I have skewed priorities, here we are. Anyway. This is like, the SJ version of 99.9 and Sakiboku with a dash of Sekamuzu LOL. Despite that premise, Jun is not shown practicing anything related to law because I actually know nothing about it. I'm so sorry if you clicked this in hopes of reading something like that.
> 
> This was written in the middle of a hectic sem and during the first two weeks of my junior internship, so any mistakes are mine and are unintentionally missed by tired eyes. If you catch any, feel free to PM me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sunbladess) so I can fix it. Maybe.
> 
> Many, many thanks to [rochi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rochi) for exchanging ideas with me, and also for cheering me on so I can finish this. The yacht scene here is her brainchild, originally intended for another AU I can never work on.

His hands feel clammy.  
  
He’s been wiping them on his trousers for the past few minutes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other while waiting for the elevator to arrive.  
  
His necktie feels too tight and he loosens it a bit as he prolongs his exhalation by breathing through pursed lips.  
  
“For an interview?”  
  
Sho looks up. There’s a man standing beside him, wearing a crisp, expensively tailored suit. The way he carries himself seems full of stability and is overbrimming with confidence, his thick eyebrows and fine nose adding to his sharply defined features.  
  
He’s everything Sho isn’t feeling.  
  
Sho shakes his head, feeling self-conscious. His tie is from a discounted sale. “Uh, no. Here to meet the boss.”  
  
“Oh,” the strong-faced guy says, not sounding apologetic. It’s then that Sho notices the gold lapel badge. Lawyer, and judging from the faded gold, a long-time practicing one, too. “My apologies. I thought you were for an interview, given your nervousness.”  
  
“This is my first time meeting him,” Sho says, offering a small smile. Sensei returns his smile politely, and Sho notices the beauty marks. It’s hard not to; they’re situated in unlikely places, adding to the man’s attractiveness. One on his nose, one above his lip, one on it, and one below. When Sho drags his eyes further down, there are a few ones there, too.  
  
Sensei probably never lost a case with that face.  
  
Sho clears his throat. “I got the job despite not meeting him, which is weird, so I don’t know what to expect.”  
  
The man grins, showing off his perfectly white teeth. Combined with the golden badge, everything seems to shine. “Satoshi’s not the most traditional of CEOs.”  
  
Sensei used the CEO’s name so casually that can only stem from a prolonged association. Perhaps Ohno-san is a long-time client.  
  
“Any tips for me?” Sho asks politely, just as the elevator arrives. They enter together, and Sho presses the button that leads to the penthouse. “Anything I should or shouldn’t do?”  
  
Sensei looks thoughtful, his features more intimidating. If Sho became the recipient of his stare from across a courtroom, he’d lose his guts and melt on his seat.  
  
“If he offers anything, don’t say no,” Sensei says after a moment. They’re the only ones in the elevator since it’s too early for lunch break. “He rarely offers, so that’s an opportunity on itself.”  
  
Sho nods, giving another small smile. “Thank you.”  
  
Sensei nods, and there is nothing else to say. The elevator music is Chopin, and Sho only recognizes it from his youth. It reminds him of piano lessons under a very strict teacher, one who smacked his hands for not being positioned properly over the ivory keys.  
  
The music soothes him now, though, in its own odd way. It’s something to focus on instead of his nerves.  
  
Beside him, Sensei sniffs. Sho looks over, wondering if the man is crying or getting emotional over soft elevator music. Chopin was a classic, as well as Mozart, but Sho as a child preferred Salieri instead.  
  
“Sorry,” Sensei says, sniffing again. “Hay fever. I conveniently forgot to take my meds today.”  
  
“Oh,” Sho says. He digs inside his suitcase for that small pouch of pills he has. It’s for emergencies and mostly contains multivitamins and other supplements, but he just needs the beige one.  
  
He finds it and hands one over. Sensei frowns then stares at his palm.  
  
“For the allergies,” Sho explains. He likes this brand, endorsed by a guy in a purple leather suit while donning a purple wig. Sometimes, the guy crossdresses and ditches the purple wig for a long brown one, and that one predictably became Sho’s favorite CM.  
  
“Oh,” Sensei says, looking unsure. Sho has probably made him uncomfortable, offering an antihistamine to a stranger. To Sho’s surprise though, Sensei takes the pill and smiles in thanks. “I don’t suppose you have water too?”  
  
Sho scratches his chin, feeling sheepish. “I didn’t think I’d meet a man with allergies today.”  
  
“The allergic man says thank you,” Sensei says, and the elevator finally reaches its destination. He extends his hand once the doors open. “After you,” he says.  
  
Sho steps out and extends his hand in greeting. “Sakurai Sho.” He digs inside his coat pocket for a card and hands it over, just as Sensei fishes for his own. “I’m a teacher.”  
  
Sensei eyes him coolly, a tiny smile forming on his lips. “The principal Satoshi’s hired.”  
  
Sho reddens and looks down, reads the information on Sensei’s card. Matsumoto Jun, practicing corporate law consultant from his own firm, Matsumoto & Ikuta.  
  
Sho’s eyes flit back to the expensive-looking navy blue tie. Definitely signature.  
  
“Corporate law practice extends as far as school affairs?” Sho asks.  
  
“Anything that happens in this company is my business,” Matsumoto says. “Forgive me if I was too forward. But Satoshi’s been looking for a suitable replacement after the previous one.” Matsumoto’s fine nose scrunches. “I’m not directly affiliated with Ohno and Associates, but on behalf of Satoshi, I hope you enjoy your stay in the new school.”  
  
The new school. Sho was on the job hunt after his resignation from the girls’ high school back in Takasaki. It was his sister who had forwarded his application to Shinonome High School, a private institution owned by Ohno and Associates.  
  
“This far,” Mai said to him, “they can’t reach you. They can’t do anything to you anymore. It’s private, too.”  
  
Her words gave him the courage to try once more, hoping that maybe, things will turn out different than the last time. Sho considers himself a pragmatist, someone who focuses on what’s more realistic than what’s optimistic.  
  
So when he went to interviews and passed round after round of selection pools, he thought he’d fail the last one—the boss meeting. Except Ohno is the unconventional boss, hiring him through his HR executives and asking to meet him a week before the start of his term as principal.  
  
New school, new environment, new colleagues. A fresh start.  
  
It’s all Sho wanted.  
  
He finds himself nodding. “Thank you.” He can’t gauge the depth of Matsumoto’s sincerity—lawyers are adept at concealing their true intentions—but he’s not impolite.  
  
Sho lets Matsumoto speak with Ohno’s secretary first, a shrewd-looking pale man who possesses the voice Sho recognized from the phone. Ninomiya, if he remembers correctly, was the one who briefed him on the phone about the meeting, the date and the time, and gave him a quick overview of the higher-ups in the new school. All within three minutes.  
  
Ninomiya faces him next, after Matsumoto enters through the polished oak doors that lead to the office. Ninomiya has a set of beauty marks too, a prominent one right on his chin. His eyes narrow at the sight of Sho, then he smiles.  
  
“Sakurai-san,” he greets genially, despite Sho not introducing himself. Sho wonders what gave it away. “Ohno-san is currently meeting with his lawyer. He’ll meet you after. You have ten minutes.”  
  
“Ten minutes to introduce myself and sell my skills?” Sho asks. The nerves are back, and this time, there’s no classical elevator music to help soothe them.  
  
Ninomiya snorts, so casually done except that he’s wearing corporate attire like Sho. His flashy Smurfs necktie is a little hurtful to the eyes. “Ohno-san has read your file. Or rather, I read it all to him. The pertinent details, things he has to know about his new principal. Anyway, you know he’s your direct superior so you report to him. He knows of your background. You have ten minutes in that room to convince him you don’t need to be put on probation.”  
  
“I have to be on probation,” Sho repeats, slightly appalled. He’s not a regular salaryman like the employees in this building.  
  
“Not because of Ohno-san. The board requires it. After the disastrous predecessor we’ve had.” Ninomiya shrugs. Sho keeps his gaze on Smurfette, right at the center of the tie. Who wears something like this for a contractual job? “If you do well, Ohno-san might convince the board it’s unnecessary. You’ve read my email so you know of the full privileges you will have when you’re not on probation.” Ninomiya smiles, deceptively youthful and innocent. “Good luck.”  
  
Sho’s faced worse challenges. He definitely doesn’t need the probation—he knows what to do. He’s good at his job. There were simply unforeseeable and unfortunate circumstances the last time.  
  
He nods. “Thank you for the heads up.”  
  
Ninomiya points to the nearest sofa. “Have a seat. Knowing J, he’ll exceed past the time he’s been given.”  
  
J is someone Sho doesn’t know, but he concludes it might be Matsumoto since the man entered the office first. He follows Ninomiya’s advice, grabs a newspaper from the nearest pile, and busies himself with global headlines. He no longer needs to look at the classified ads section and can focus instead on more important matters.  
  
He’s reached the recent health updates from the United Nations when Ninomiya calls for him, and Sho returns the newspaper, taking a deep breath once.  
  
His strides are confident when he passes by Ninomiya’s desk with a grateful nod, past Matsumoto who acknowledges him as he exits Ohno’s office.  
  
Ohno’s penthouse suite has an unrivaled view of the city, Tokyo Tower easily visible when Sho darts a glance to the left. He directs his gaze to the only desk in the room and sees a short man with tanned skin frowning over a bunch of papers.  
  
“It’s all numbers,” Ohno is grumbling, “Jun knows I hate numbers.”  
  
Then he looks up, eyes narrowing at the sight of Sho.  
  
Sho hopes his strides appear confident as he approaches Ohno, whose face breaks into an unexpected grin despite Sho not opening his mouth yet.  
  
“Sakurai-san,” Ohno says. “You’re more handsome than the photo Nino has shown me.”  
  
Sho can feel his cheeks heat up. “Ohno-san. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
  
“We should update that photo. Did Nino already issue your ID? I must make him change it. It’s good for the school, having a principal who’s this attractive,” Ohno continues, completely ignoring Sho’s embarrassment. He stands and buttons the top button of his coat. “A pleasure.” He finally extends his hand.  
  
Sho takes it, smaller than his own but the grip just as firm. Ohno wordlessly gestures for him to sit, and he does, with Ohno’s desk separating them.  
  
“Nino told you about the probation,” Ohno says. Sho’s starting to like him; he cuts to the chase.  
  
“Yes,” Sho says. “Quite honestly, Ohno-san, I don’t believe I need it.”  
  
“No, I didn’t think you do,” Ohno says, fingers tapping a particular rhythm against the desk’s surface. Sho doesn’t recognize it, something fast and upbeat. “But the board thinks so. They’re proposing we ought to be more careful after the last one. Have you heard of that?”  
  
“Little things,” Sho admits. “Not everything.”  
  
Ohno lets out a breath. “Well, the previous one officially resigned and switched careers, but in reality, certain students stumbled upon his...unsavory internet history.”  
  
Sho’s eyebrows must be reaching his hairline by now. He doesn’t know what to say. “Uh…”  
  
Ohno only nods, somewhat grimly, in Sho’s opinion. “Word of advice, Sakurai-san. Clear your search history, and never bookmark certain web pages in your work computer.”  
  
“High school kids are that gifted at hacking?” Sho asks when he regains his composure.  
  
“Some of them might be. Who knows? Anyway, the previous one had...shall we say nasty things in his computer, and it sparked rumors, reached the parents, and he just had to go.” Ohno offers him a smile. “It didn’t go very well, but that’s all in the past now. We have you. And you said you don’t need us to watch your back.”  
  
“I think I know what to do,” Sho says sincerely.  
  
Ohno’s eyes narrow fractionally. “Why did you leave Takasaki?”  
  
Sho was bracing himself for this question, wondering for the longest time when it will come up. He’d been next in line for the promotion back in Takasaki, but things took a turn for the worst and they had to choose someone else and let him go.  
  
“Not because of internet porn, I assure you,” he says, and Ohno chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the sides.  
  
“No, I figured that wasn’t the reason.” Ohno segregates the papers on his desk and grabs a folder, flipping it open. “It’s in your file. I just wanted to hear you say it.” Ohno peers from above the edge of the folder.  
  
“I stood up for something,” Sho says simply.  
  
Ohno hums, and Sho watches him flip a page, then another.  
  
“I told HR I wanted someone with a backbone,” Ohno says. “I wasn’t going to fire Yokota-san so easily if he didn’t cower away and instead chose to defend himself in front of the board. At least your file tells me you’re the type to stick to what you believe in.”  
  
Sho doesn’t understand how his work ethic is relatable to his predecessor’s porn history, but he’s been told Ohno is an unconventional boss.  
  
“I’ll try to convince the board you don’t need the probation,” Ohno says, closing the folder and setting it aside. “After you convince me, of course. The school’s been suffering from media discrimination lately, claiming that it only accepts students that come from a particular stratum.” Ohno leans back in his seat, sighing. “There’s a scholarship program, of course, but not a lot can avail it.”  
  
“My predecessor wasn’t so lenient with granting scholarships?” Sho asks.  
  
The corner of Ohno’s mouth lifts into a smile. “Yokota was more on the business side of things. Sure, the school prospered because of all the money from the parents, but that’s what Shinonome is now being known for. Which won’t do. We plan to have it accredited for next year, to be a suitable option for the next batch of students.”  
  
Sho sees the root of the problem. The school is being classified as an elitist, accepting only the richest of the rich. Luxury is becoming the focus of the institution instead of learning.  
  
“The present order of priority is not in line with what I have in mind,” Sho says bluntly, and Ohno grins.  
  
“Without the probation, you can do whatever you want. Reform the school, fix the scholarship program. We need more active participation from the students, more interactions with other schools. Shinonome is becoming isolated because of its growing image as a school for the rich. It’s not what I want for it.” Ohno stands and looks out his massive windows, hands clasped behind his back. “I never liked studying. But there are some people who did, and who do. Some of them might be in Shinonome, working hard to make a change.”  
  
“But without someone to lead them, it would hardly make a difference,” Sho adds.  
  
Ohno nods, eyes lifting to watch Sho through the glass. “Can you be that someone?”  
  
“I can try,” Sho says honestly. He knows what he can do, if given enough freedom to actually do it. With no probationary period, he can set his plans in motion as soon as possible. “If I’m allowed to.”  
  
Ohno faces him, grinning. “You’re a very convincing man, Kouchou-sensei. Looks like I have to vouch for you in front of the board.”  
  
“I won’t let you down, Ohno-san,” Sho says sincerely, baring all his determination for Ohno to see. He wonders if Ohno sees him as someone desperate to prove something to Takasaki, or if he’s just someone badly wishing for a new beginning.  
  
Sho doesn’t know which one is true. But he hopes whichever Ohno sees will make the man give him a chance.  
  
Ohno takes a seat again and picks up the phone without another word, pressing a button and waits. He puts it near his ear and Sho watches as he says, “Nino. I want you to shred the probationary memo.”  
  
Whatever Ninomiya says on the other line is lost to Sho, since it only takes a few seconds before Ohno puts the receiver down. His eyes search Sho’s, and after a moment, he nods, as if to himself.  
  
“We really need a better photo of you,” Ohno says, smiling. “One that shows off the charm. Have you ever considered being a part of the sales department?”  
  
“If I get fired for my porn searches, can I apply for that position next?” Sho asks, and Ohno laughs.  
  
“Clear your browsing history, Sakurai-san,” Ohno says, standing, and Sho imitates him. “Good luck next week. I’ve sent word to the school that I’ve found someone to replace Yokota. They’ll be expecting you.”  
  
“I’ll try not to disappoint them,” Sho says, smiling, and he extends his hand. “Thank you, Ohno-san.”  
  
“Thank me if I convince the board,” Ohno says, shaking his hand anyway. “Despite my position, sometimes they don’t listen. Hopefully, the school’s administration will listen to you.”  
  
Sho has experienced discrimination because of his age. Despite being thirty-six, he’s still too young according to certain standards. He’s been looked down, frowned upon, and questioned in Takasaki. He’s proved them all wrong, but none of it had mattered, in the end.  
  
He closes his eyes briefly, grounding himself to where he is. When he opens his eyes, he sees Tokyo Tower.  
  
“Hopefully,” he says, mirroring Ohno’s sentiments.  
  
\--  
  
Shinonome High School is situated in Chiyoda, an almost-fifteen-minute train ride from where Sho lives. Its proximity allows him to come earlier than he should, calmly waiting for the security personnel to open the gates and doors for him, to guide him to his new office.  
  
Classes are to begin the following week, but Sho’s been notified by Ninomiya to show up and introduce himself to his new staff. Ninomiya has emphasized the importance of the faculty and administration liking him—the board might ask them a few questions if Ohno is unable to persuade them regarding the probation.  
  
“It’s not the lack of effort or the skill on Ohno-san’s part, I assure you,” Ninomiya told him. “It’s their fear of Ohno-san amassing more than what he already has, given how persuasive he can be.”  
  
To Sho’s knowledge, Ohno owns fifty-five percent of the company. He doesn’t fully grasp the logistics behind running a company, so he simply takes Ninomiya’s words seriously.  
  
His tie is not from a sale today, and he picked one that almost mirrored the tie Matsumoto-sensei was wearing at the time. Sho tries to imagine being that confident, having that self-esteem. He used to be someone like that before.  
  
He runs his hand over his desk, bigger now compared to his previous one. He looks up and sees framed photos of his predecessors, but there’s the noticeable lack of the one Sho has directly succeeded.  
  
Three knocks and Sho grants the person entry.  
  
“Good morning,” Sho greets, just as the man straightens his clothes.  
  
“Good morning,” the man greets back, smiling wide and genially. He’s a little taller than Sho and has a leaner built, his expression as bright as the sun shining outside.  
  
A well-loved teacher from the looks of it.  
  
Sho offers his hand. “Sakurai Sho. I’m the new principal.”  
  
“We’ve heard of you,” the man says, shaking his hand. “They said you are young, but I didn’t imagine you to look so close to my age.” He smiles once more. “Aiba Masaki. I teach chemistry and coach the baseball team, and I’m also the secretary of the PTA. It may look like a lot, but since we don’t really participate in interschool competitions, it’s manageable.”  
  
Sho has memorized every single member of the faculty and staff since Ninomiya forwarded the file to him. He’s seen the list of Aiba’s tasks, his accomplishments, his background. With the man being this friendly in person, it seems rude that Sho doesn’t offer a bit of information about himself.  
  
“I guess being principal also makes me a member of the PTA?” he asks.  
  
Aiba-sensei laughs. “It does. But no one’s going to rush you.” He blinks, appearing to reconsider. “Unless the parents call for a meeting. But they usually only do that when their kids have some complaints.” He shrugs. “The last complaint about Yokota-kouchou was…”  
  
He trails off, and Sho nods. “I’ve heard about it.”  
  
“The company didn’t keep an eye on you despite being new?” Aiba asks, and Sho gestures for him to have a seat. Aiba does, looking curious when Sho faces him once more. “We’ve been told their representatives might show up for your first month.”  
  
“That’s currently being discussed as we speak,” Sho says. “Hopefully they won’t. I’d like to avoid the image it’ll leave the students with and the pressure it’ll put on the faculty.”  
  
Aiba nods slowly. “That’s fair.” He looks around and Sho sees him check the time. “I’m the first one because they tasked me to give you the tour.”  
  
“They?” Sho asks, head tilted.  
  
“The senior faculty,” Aiba explains. “I’m not the youngest teacher here, but I’ve been around long enough that they assign me to things like this.” He holds up a hand. “It’s not a burden. The school administrator just happened to have a delayed flight.”  
  
Delayed flight so the task is handed to the junior member of the staff. Sho knows the benefits of delegation, but to him, vacations make for a poor excuse to not be present for your job.  
  
He keeps his thoughts to himself and lets Aiba lead the way. With the school premises devoid of students, it’s just like performing caretaker duties in a silent, empty property. The school is big enough to house at least a thousand students, but they only have seventy percent of that number thanks to their current status and the recent scandal involving Sho’s predecessor.  
  
Aiba-sensei shows him the library, the guidance office, and some of the classrooms. Sho’s memorized a map before heading to work, but it’s easier when you can see things for yourself. He listens to Aiba’s explanations regarding the school system, the overall student behavior.  
  
“The parents have been informed of a new principal?” Sho asks when they make their way to the gymnasium. The school’s well-provided for, something Takasaki didn’t have. Being a public institution, Takasaki’s budget was limited and Sho had to make do with what the local government had provided them with.  
  
Here at Shinonome, he can simply draft a letter addressed to Ohno’s office, have a chat with Ohno, and he’ll likely get all the money he needs. No wonder his predecessor was easily misled by the prospect of it all. The budget is the least of this school’s problems.  
  
“They have,” Aiba says. “We sent letters to the students regarding the dismissal of Yokota-san and that we have someone to replace him.” He scratches the back of his head. “Some parents sent complaints, of course. They say they want someone they can also scrutinize since it's their children’s safety on the line.”  
  
Sho says nothing, knowing how parents can be. And yet, the way Aiba mentioned the safety of high school kids stuck with him.  
  
He faces Aiba. “What exactly was the kind of internet nasty Yokota-san was into?” Since his predecessor’s mishaps were first mentioned to him, he’s been assuming it’s nothing serious like graphic porn or tentacle porn. Now that Sho backtracks, that might be quite mild to warrant a dismissal from the board. It might be something worse like pedophilia, and he shudders at the mere thought.  
  
To his surprise, Aiba laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, shaking his head, still laughing. “Your face, Sakurai-kouchou. It’s not that bad, really? At least that’s what I think; I don’t judge people for their kinks.” Aiba looks around and leans closer, like he’s sharing a state secret. “He was into scat.”  
  
For a moment, Sho blinks. The relief that washes over him is quickly transformed into a sigh. Children’s safety. He almost rolls his eyes. “There’s no shortage of overdramatic parents, then?”  
  
“Nope,” Aiba says, grinning. “I guess they wanted to ask you for your kinks too, if that’s what they call thorough selection and interview.”  
  
They leave the gymnasium to proceed to the conference room, where the rest of Sho’s staff is waiting. At least they should be, it’s already fifteen minutes past the appointed time.  
  
He straightens his tie before he enters the room, and is greeted by an assembly of twelve teachers. Their faces matched the profiles Ninomiya sent to him the other night, and Sho shakes the hands of each as they introduce themselves to him. He can already feel the condescending stares and he weathers them.  
  
The school administrator with a delayed flight is a no-show, and Sho considers replacing him with Aiba-sensei, if only the man doesn’t have a lot of jobs already. He keeps an eye out for a potential candidate and wonders if he’s too rash.  
  
Overkill, Ninomiya would probably say. Sho hasn’t had a lot of interactions with the man, but Ninomiya is definitely the type who speaks his mind. In his flashy, cartoon character-patterned necktie.  
  
The physics teacher, Kanjiya-san, is a lovely woman in her early thirties. She sports a kind smile as she hands him a folder, and flipping it open reveals the tentative class schedules for all the teachers.  
  
Sho does a quick scan, trying to remember when he can hold academic meetings. He sees two potential time slots, provided the teachers don’t have any extracurricular activities to supervise, and makes a mental note of it.  
  
He closes the folder and decides to be out with the truth.  
  
“The board wanted me on probation for a month since I’m newly hired and younger than their expectations,” he says, and all eyes turn to him. The judgment is palpable; Sho can feel that some of them think he doesn’t know what he’s doing.  
  
“I told the CEO I don’t need the probation,” he continues, and he sees some of the faculty stand up straighter. Aiba-sensei looks appalled but also amused. “I’ve read the files—”  
  
“So reading is supposed to guide you on what to do when you barely spent an hour here?” one asks, and Sho recognizes him as the Japanese language teacher, Kojima.  
  
Sho blinks. “—and I see the problem.” He faces Kojima. “How long has it been since the school granted scholarships to its students? And how many are enrolled in the program?”  
  
“Currently, there are fourteen students who are recipients of the scholarship,” Kanjiya informs him, and Sho nods in acknowledgement.  
  
“Fourteen,” he repeats. “For a school with adequate facilities and capable teaching staff, only fourteen students qualified. How long has it been since the program was updated?”  
  
Nobody seems inclined to answer his question, and Sho turns to Aiba, who refused to meet his eyes. A secretary of the PTA would know something like that.  
  
“Aiba-sensei,” Sho coaxes softly.  
  
“The last meeting was held ten months ago, and there was a scheduled one after that but then...Yokota-kouchou got into some things, so…” Aiba trailed off, and Sho turns to everyone else.  
  
“Ten months ago,” he repeats, letting his voice carry. “In those ten months, two grading periods have passed. To my knowledge, the scholarship program is supposedly updated every grading period to monitor the qualifying students, including those who may qualify. The school is supporting fourteen students whose grades were not periodically monitored and not updated on the database.”  
  
“Are you implying that those fourteen are unworthy of the scholarship?” Kojima asks, and Sho faces him.  
  
“I’m saying there could be more to those fourteen. The school could’ve had twenty or twenty-five by now—it’s to my understanding that the past two grading periods are by far the easiest in the curriculum.” He’s done his research. “If they’re the easiest, more students could’ve possibly availed the scholarship. But no, it wasn’t updated.”  
  
“Because Yokota-kouchou got into some issues that took time to settle,” Kojima tells him.  
  
“And yet the tuition fee increase was finalized three months ago, to be integrated this coming school year?” Sho asks.  
  
He’s met by silence.  
  
“The priority of this school is money,” Sho says bluntly, and he sees how that makes the faculty members react. “It’s not furthering the education of the students; it’s increasing the budget so the school will have a swimming pool by the end of the year.” He turns to Aiba-sensei, who’s looking at the ground. “Am I wrong?”  
  
“There are plans to construct a pool and to add swimming to the physical education curriculum, yes,” Aiba confirms after a moment of hesitation. “The parents suggested it via the PTA, and Yokota-kouchou seemed inclined with the idea.”  
  
“I’m not Yokota-san,” Sho says. “His accomplishments for the past year have been forwarded to me. I’ve read them, understood them. There’s no decision of his that I wish to undo, except maybe prioritize the students first before the facilities. We don’t need facilities if we don’t have students.”  
  
He rounds the table, knocking on its surface once, twice. “This school isn’t lacking in resources. You have the teachers, the facilities, the extracurricular activities supervised by qualified people. What it doesn’t have is the ability to utilize said resources effectively, despite having an abundance of it. Comfort is given priority rather than education. If there’s one thing I want to change, it’s that.”  
  
He takes a deep breath, watching the faces of his faculty. To them, he probably seems overly ambitious, someone who doesn’t know his place. They’ve probably heard that he hails from Takasaki and have scoffed at his origins.  
  
But every great thing starts with ambition. Sho didn’t go as far as convincing Ohno just to be hindered by workplace skepticism and condescension. He’s come so far from Takasaki just to stomach something like that.  
  
“By next week,” he says carefully, knowing he has everyone’s attention now, “I want to interview each of those fourteen students. I want them accompanied by their respective class advisers. And by tomorrow, I want an updated list from the school registrar regarding the academic standing of every student. Can that be done?”  
  
“The registrar is catering to late enrollees as well,” Kojima says, and Sho looks at him. He seems to reconsider his next words. “They might have the list tomorrow afternoon.”  
  
“Make it sooner,” Sho says, and he almost breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Kojima nod. He thought nothing could make that man back down.  
  
He meets the gaze of everyone present and nods. “Meeting is adjourned.”  
  
The shuffling of feet and scraping of chairs against the floorboards distract him from thinking too much as the faculty departs the room one by one. He waits until there’s no one else but him and Aiba-sensei, and he turns to the man.  
  
“Not what you expected?” he asks.  
  
Aiba smiles. “I thought you were pretty firm compared to Yokota-san. None of us were expecting that, I guess. It could be good, but I’m sure you’re going to be the talk of the teachers now.”  
  
Sho’s been the talk of teachers before, and it really didn’t stop him from doing his job. The only thing that did was when the PTA intervened.  
  
He shuts his eyes. No one here knows what happened then. Maybe. And if one of them does, the only thing he can do is to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Sho mustn’t pick sides. That had been his mistake at that time.  
  
“The school library is larger than most high school libraries,” Sho says, and Aiba nods. “Do students use it?”  
  
“Some of them do,” Aiba says. “The serials are getting updated regularly, so any new information is within reach for any student who needs it. Why?”  
  
“I want to know what interests the students here, since we’re in the age of the millennials. Do books still have their charm?”  
  
“We’re requiring research papers to have a substantial number of book resources aside from online sources,” Aiba informs him. “Whenever it’s nearing the deadline for term papers, students would be in the library and clamor to check out certain serials.”  
  
Sho nods. “That’s good to know. The head librarian’s updated with what the students need?”  
  
“The library regularly hands out feedback forms for students to fill,” Aiba says. Everything he’s saying comforts Sho; there’s no immediate need to validate the sources of information available to the students. He’s asking because he’s preparing to what the PTA might say to him when the time comes to meet them.  
  
As if hearing what he has in mind, Aiba asks, “When will you be meeting the PTA, Kouchou-sensei?”  
  
Sho stalks to where the window is and peeks behind the blinds. It’s definitely different from Takasaki, where he could easily spot the plum and cherry trees lining the roads. Here, it’s all business buildings and high-rise apartelles. Establishments line the boundaries of Shinonome, and the touch of green within sight is from the gardens of the Imperial Palace.  
  
“After I meet the scholars,” Sho says, deciding on the spot. Best to get that over with as soon as possible; the PTA will be in attendance when he delivers his welcoming speech for the students. Any concerns that would undoubtedly arise the moment he stands in the podium can be addressed within the day, to cause fewer problems in the future.  
  
Aiba nods. “I’ll inform them.”  
  
“Thank you,” Sho says, inclining his head to indicate that Aiba’s dismissed.  
  
Aiba leaves, and it’s only when the doors are shut that Sho allows himself a sigh.  
  
He’s got a lot of work to do, but at least he’s doing something.  
  
\--  
  
It would be two months later when Sho finds himself in Ohno’s office again, and this time, instead of a man frowning in front of documents recently delivered by his lawyer, Sho sees a man peeling oranges and looking very confused at how it should go.  
  
The odor of citrus permeates within the office, and after Ohno’s prompting, Sho takes his seat across the desk, smiling in greeting when the man meets his eyes.  
  
“These oranges are from Jun,” Ohno says. “I have to finish at least half of them before he returns, or else he’s going to take jabs at my conscience and tell me I don’t value his souvenirs.”  
  
“I see,” Sho says noncommittally.  
  
“Have one,” Ohno says, throwing an orange at him. He almost fails to catch it, but he’s able to hold onto it and secure it between his palms. “Help me finish them.”  
  
“Of course,” Sho says, beginning to peel. He didn’t think he’d come here to peel oranges, but it’s better than getting reprimanded outright.  
  
“Do you know why I called for you?” Ohno asks after popping a piece of orange in his mouth.  
  
Sho has a few ideas. In the past two months, he’s added eight students to the scholarship program and removed unqualified two, totaling to twenty scholars. He’s applied for local interschool competitions with Shinonome’s baseball team, and next month, they have a representative for the local shogi competition.  
  
He’s keeping the PTA and his faculty on their toes by firing the school administrator and appointing Aiba-sensei instead. He’s heard many things about how his way of doing things, that he doesn’t take it slow and seemingly operates on his own. Members of the PTA and the school’s staff have speculated that he has own agendas, and he looks at Ohno, wondering if a parent actually came here to complain about the recent changes in the school.  
  
“I need to chill for a bit?” he asks, which makes Ohno chuckle, his shoulders shaking.  
  
“That’s how you put it, huh,” Ohno says. Then he shakes his head. “No, it’s not that really. I called for you because I heard you’ve had a boost in the number of applicants for transfer.”  
  
“We’ve added two more universities to our affiliations,” Sho says, nodding in Ohno’s direction. “You’ve approved of them, Ohno-san. Maybe that’s why students want to transfer to Shinonome now, despite its image of being an elite school.”  
  
“It’s still elite in my eyes,” Ohno says. “That’s not to critique your work, Sakurai-san. You’re doing fine. Exceeds my expectations, in fact. But we both know it’ll take a long time for Shinonome to erase the public’s impression of it.”  
  
“If we win a couple of competitions, it might help,” Sho says.  
  
Ohno looks at him, eating another piece of orange. “Shogi. Baseball. What else do you have in mind?”  
  
“Academic quiz bees,” Sho tells him. “They’re holding a local one a month from now. We plan to participate there as well. The letter’s being drafted as we speak.”  
  
Ohno opens his mouth, but whatever he’s about to say is halted by the sound of a knock. Their eyes meet, and Sho lowers his gaze.  
  
“Enter,” Ohno says, and Sho doesn’t look to see who it is. “I’m in a meeting with Sakurai-san. You’ve met him? We’re enjoying your oranges.”  
  
“They’re tangerines from Okinawa,” Matsumoto says, and Sho sees him come up his periphery.  
  
A finely tailored suit as always, but it’s three-piece this time and in sleek gray, and Sho nods in acknowledgement when their eyes meet. Matsumoto’s gaze lands on his lap, where an orange lies in his hands.  
  
“Tangerines,” Matsumoto says, looking back at Ohno. “Sorry to interrupt, Kouchou-sensei. It’s urgent.”  
  
Sho merely shakes his head. Matsumoto’s perfume is very masculine, accentuating his rather arresting profile. With the man standing close, Sho catches a whiff of it with every breath.  
  
Ohno holds out his hand and Matsumoto puts a manila envelope on it. Ohno doesn’t look too pleased with receiving, a crease formed between his eyebrows.  
  
“I’ll wait outside,” Matsumoto says, a smile plastered on his handsome face. “See you around, Kouchou-sensei.”  
  
“You too,” Sho manages to say, before Matsumoto leaves him and Ohno alone once more.  
  
“Tangerine?” Ohno asks, offering a piece to Sho, and Sho laughs. Ohno shakes his head. “He’s impossible. Oranges, tangerines—they’re the same thing.” Ohno chews another piece and sets Matsumoto’s envelope aside. “Where were we?”  
  
“Competitions Shinonome is planning to participate in for the upcoming months,” Sho says patiently.  
  
“I’ve received reports about you, that you’re an unconventional principal,” Ohno says. It’s somewhat hilarious to hear that word from his mouth, considering that’s how Matsumoto described him before. Sho braces himself for whatever’s coming next. “They say you work more than you talk.”  
  
“Is that bad?” Sho asks, uncertain. Ohno’s thinking is still something Sho can’t comprehend.  
  
“You tend to do things on your own and inform your staff only when you’re done organizing what you need,” Ohno continues, not answering Sho’s question earlier. “You’re a one-man team.”  
  
“Aiba-sensei is there,” Sho points out.  
  
Ohno inclines his head. “Your faculty say you’re too fast-paced.”  
  
Sho masks his alarm regarding Ohno knowing what his faculty says about him by blinking once. “I have to be if I want something to change.”  
  
“I called you here because I want to know how true those words are. Some of the staff are complaining, others appreciate the change. I see now what they’re saying is true, that you don’t settle.”  
  
Sho squares his shoulders and holds his head high. He stands with the decisions he’s made for the school. He might be moving at a faster pace than expected, but that’s necessary to effect change as soon as possible. He’s not in a rush, but the plans for accreditation are pushing through. The school can’t be accredited if it’s not participating in any local competitions. Shinonome mustn’t be isolated from its peers.  
  
“Am I getting reprimanded?” Sho asks when Ohno says nothing else.  
  
Ohno smiles and peels another orange. Tangerine. “I like you, Sakurai-san. You know what you want, and you’re not afraid to go for it. You challenge whatever’s set because you think the rules are just guidelines. As long as you follow them, you’re not in the wrong.” Ohno looks at him. “I like that. It’s the proper mindset for someone who’s born to lead. Or so I’ve been told.”  
  
Sho opts to listen and keeps silent.  
  
“You’re not getting reprimanded. I just wanted to know the school’s present status. The board wants me to send some observers to Shinonome, and I relented because they kept asking. This is your warning.” Ohno hums in thought. “Not to worry, though. I’ll send someone who’s on my side just to balance things out. To know whether the board’s observers are being truthful or not. All within protocol, of course.”  
  
“Ninomiya-san?” Sho asks, knowing that Ninomiya serves as Ohno’s handyman. There has to be nothing about the company that Ninomiya doesn’t know.  
  
“Unfortunately, no,” Ohno says. “I’d love for Nino to go, but I need him here. There’s this overseas conference happening a few weeks from now.” Ohno picks up a tangerine and tosses it to Sho’s direction, and when Sho catches it, he grins.  
  
It takes Sho a few seconds.  
  
“Your lawyer,” he says, finally understanding. “Matsumoto-sensei.”  
  
“Jun knows the legalities and what not, and if anyone’s well-versed about the rules you’re tiptoeing around, it’s him. He drafted the board’s conditions for Shinonome and renegotiated a few clauses back in the day,” Ohno recalls. “That’s a total of four people to visit you next week.”  
  
“Four?” Sho asks. “Two from you and two from the board?”  
  
“Three from the board and Jun from me,” Ohno corrects. He seems to notice Sho’s hesitation. “Are you worried?”  
  
“As long as they don’t interfere with what I have to do, it should be fine,” Sho says, keeping his voice even. Observers would set him back since he has to put everyone on their best behavior. Any faculty member who outright hates him will find their chance, and Sho has to prevent that from happening.  
  
“They might conduct spontaneous interviews with your staff,” Ohno says, chewing another piece of his newly peeled tangerine.  
  
“Ohno-san,” Sho begins, and Ohno hums in question, “why are you telling me this? Isn’t this supposed to be a surprise visit so I’ll have no time to prepare, to hide whatever I might be hiding from you and the board?”  
  
“It’s a surprise visit,” Ohno affirms, grinning. “So pretend you don’t know. As to why I told you, that’s between me and Jun now.”  
  
Sho nods, respecting Ohno’s decision. If anything, he’s grateful to have been informed. “In a week then, Ohno-san.”  
  
Ohno stands, prompting Sho to do the same. They shake hands, and Ohno squeezes his for a brief moment. “Between you and me, I think you’re doing fine. The board just wants something to put on paper to give me something to look at and add to my work.”  
  
“My sincerest apologies for giving you more to do,” Sho says, and Ohno smiles before letting him go.  
  
“If Jun’s outside and lingering, mind telling him I’m off to look at his envelope? While finishing his oranges, of course,” Ohno says when Sho is near the door.  
  
Sho has the door ajar and he sees Matsumoto leaning against Ninomiya’s desk, elbows locked with a smile on his face.  
  
“Not at all,” Sho says, and he pulls the door shut.  
  
“You took your time,” Ninomiya tells him, and Sho inclines his head in apology.  
  
“Ohno-san was very kind to share his tangerines with me,” Sho says, raising the two he received. Matsumoto is looking at him, and Sho faces him next. “He wants me to inform you that he’s looking at your envelope.”  
  
“Looking, but not reading,” Matsumoto says, which earns a snort from Ninomiya. “I need that by tomorrow, Nino.”  
  
“I’ll remind him,” Ninomiya promises, and Sho excuses himself to head for the elevators.  
  
He’s shuffling his weight from foot to foot when someone stands beside him, and turning his head reveals Matsumoto Jun in his overpriced, extravagant suit.  
  
Sho inclines his head in greeting as they wait for the elevators.  
  
“Satoshi told you,” Matsumoto says.  
  
Pretend you don’t know, was what Ohno said earlier. “Told me what?” Sho asks.  
  
“That I’m his guinea pig,” Matsumoto says. “Don’t lie, Kouchou-sensei. It doesn’t suit you. And it certainly doesn’t work on me.”  
  
Sho’s eyes flit to the gold badge on the lapel of Matsumoto’s coat. “Does it come with the job or are lawyers specifically trained to spot lies once it’s right in front of them?”  
  
“You think I took a seminar?” Matsumoto asks, then he laughs, eyes crinkling. Doing so reveals the tiny dot under his bottom lip. “A lie detector seminar. That sounds fancy.”  
  
“He told me,” Sho says, just as the elevator doors open. They board together, and Matsumoto punches the button for the ground floor. “I’m not supposed to know, but he told me.”  
  
“Did he tell you why?” Matsumoto asks.  
  
Sho meets the man’s eyes. “He said it’s between you.”  
  
Unexpectedly, Matsumoto laughs, shaking his head. “Sometimes,” he says, turning his eyes back to Sho, “Satoshi gets poetic. Tries to be secretive. He fails most of the time, that’s why Nino’s there to take care of things. Sometimes it falls unto me to take care of things for him.” Matsumoto pauses, and Sho notices him watching their reflections on the elevator doors. “He told you because I asked him to.”  
  
Sho’s surprised by that, frowning a little. He’s grateful they’re alone in the elevator. “Why? You think I’ll accuse you of trespassing when you drop a visit? I won’t do that.”  
  
Matsumoto grins, and it’s quite a charming look on him. How many times has he won the entire jury over with that smile? “I thought you wouldn’t like someone breathing behind your neck unannounced.”  
  
Sho is a little taken aback and simultaneously appreciative. He’s unaccustomed to people looking out for him since it’s his job to look out for people at the school, and he doesn’t know how to react.  
  
“No one likes that,” Matsumoto continues. “Satoshi tells me you’re doing better than he expected, and now they want to monitor you because you’re moving too fast for their liking. He sent me because he wants a neutral party.”  
  
“A neutral party? He told me you’re on his side,” Sho says.  
  
“But not on yours,” Matsumoto says, and for a moment, Sho feels as if he’s speaking to the lawyer, and not just Matsumoto.  
  
The gold badge glints under the overhead lights.  
  
“You will tell him if I’m up to no good, huh,” Sho says, nodding.  
  
“Depends,” Matsumoto says lightly. “Do you have scat in your search history?”  
  
They look at one another and laugh at the same time, the mood shifting.  
  
“I don’t want to kink shame my predecessor,” Sho says in between chuckles.  
  
Matsumoto turns to him, saying nothing for a few seconds. When he speaks, Sho forgets about the badge pinned to his coat.  
  
“I’ve been told they’re sweet,” Matsumoto says, and Sho blinks in confusion. Matsumoto gestures to his hands. “That there’s nothing like them except in Okinawa.”  
  
They reach the ground floor, and the doors open. “Mind telling me if that vendor was telling the truth?” Matsumoto asks as they step out. Sho has to head back to the school after this, and he resists the urge to check his watch for the time.  
  
“To verify what your lie detector seminar has taught you?” Sho asks jokingly.  
  
Matsumoto grins. “It comes with the job.”  
  
Sho tosses a tangerine in the air and catches it in time. Matsumoto’s watching him.  
  
“You’ll know next week,” he promises, inclining his head in a passable goodbye.  
  
He moves to leave, and the last thing he hears is Matsumoto Jun snorting in laughter.  
  
\--  
  
Sho follows through Ohno’s advice and pretends he doesn’t know, acting surprised when the official letter of the visit arrives during one of their faculty and administrator meetings.  
  
It starts tomorrow as per the letter, and from determining the number of students who will represent the school for an academic competition, Sho shifts gears to laying out assignments he’s had days to think over.  
  
If anyone notices that he seems to know what to do despite the sudden announcement, no one comments on it. Sho doesn’t give them the chance to; giving everyone a task to complete so everything will go smoothly tomorrow.  
  
He stays past school hours in his office, rechecking documents and printouts in case the people the board has sent want to see the fruits of the changes Sho has implemented since he became principal. He sends Aiba home, reassuring he can handle the rest, and when he’s finalized a strategy for tomorrow, he sends Ninomiya a quick email.  
  
_We’re ready for them._  
  
The following morning, the first car that pulls up in front of the school’s main building is a fancy Lexus. It makes some of Sho’s faculty uneasy, and Sho supposes that’s the idea here. They were supposed to be unprepared.  
  
The Lexus has the three people who are not on Ohno’s side, and Sho is introduced to a stern-looking, mustached Mashima, a petite woman with thin, arched eyebrows named Sugimoto, and a middle-aged woman with short, curly hair named Hatano.  
  
Sho offers them his most genial smile, and he’s about to offer to usher them inside when a second car pulls up, and Sho almost shakes his head at the sight of it: a sleek, black Ferrari, its windows as dark as its hood so there’s no way to see who’s inside.  
  
But Sho knows who. He almost laughs when Matsumoto steps out, buttoning the top button of his suit and running a hand through his hair. He definitely knows how to make a scene.  
  
Some of the female teachers visibly reacted, and Sho can’t blame them. He offers the three observers another smile and holds out his hand to Matsumoto, who has reached the steps.  
  
“Am I late?” Matsumoto asks before clasping his hand in his own.  
  
“By two minutes,” Sho says. The handshake is firm, almost reassuring. “Matsumoto-sensei. Welcome to Shinonome.”  
  
“I’ve been here before,” Matsumoto tells him. “But thank you.” His eyes drift, and Sho follows his gaze as it lands on Aiba. “Aiba-sensei.”  
  
“Matsumoto-sensei,” Aiba greets, smiling brightly. “It’s been a while. Nice ride.”  
  
“I’ll offer to drive you around, Aiba-sensei,” Matsumoto says, returning Aiba’s friendly grin, “if only I’m not here for work.”  
  
Sho extends his hand in front of their visitors to lead them inside, and he lets the faculty take over. The tour is led by Aiba and Kanjiya, whose bubbly personalities seem perfect for the job. Sho stays at the back of the tour, ready to answer questions as their visitors are guided to one part of the school after another.  
  
They reach the library when Mashima with the funny mustache asks, “Has Shinonome yielded any papers of substance?”  
  
Sho restrains himself from reacting to the rude wording, instead takes over for a momentarily stunned Kanjiya to direct their visitors to a section of the library.  
  
“This section is the reference section, but the books here are actually bound theses by the students, compiled and housed safely since Shinonome’s establishment,” he introduces. It’s a large section of the library and is usually devoid of people, hence the dim lighting. “The catalog exists in the library’s database, and any student can secure a copy of any paper they need for their own research by completing a few forms.”  
  
“Some of these theses have been published in a couple of journals,” Kanjiya supplies after recovering, and Sho shoots her a grateful nod. Behind her, Sho sees Matsumoto smiling.  
  
Mashima asks a couple more questions, but there is no need for Sho to intervene since Kanjiya is adept at addressing concerns about the students’ research papers. The tour moves on, and once they’re out of the journals section, Sho finds himself walking beside Matsumoto.  
  
“You weren’t lying to Nino,” Matsumoto says quietly, a small smile on his full lips.  
  
Sho frowns, then he catches on. “Ninomiya-san forwarded my email?”  
  
“Nino forwarded it because he thought I should prepare since you did,” Matsumoto says. “He has a weird sense of humor. Often dark, sometimes weird. He thinks we’re the ones not ready for you.”  
  
“Are you?” Sho asks, just as they reach the classroom of the cream section.  
  
Matsumoto shoots a glance at his colleagues. “Between you and me, they’re not.”  
  
“I didn’t ask about them,” Sho says. He already knew that Matsumoto’s companions weren’t expecting them to know what to do. They were expecting a disorganized Shinonome, a faulty system, and a begrudging faculty badmouthing a newly hired principal.  
  
But Sho’s had a week to do something about that.  
  
Matsumoto smiles, looking coy and innocent at the same time. How he does it is beyond Sho; perhaps it’s a perfected skill from standing in courtrooms and addressing a jury. “What do you think?”  
  
Before Sho can answer, they’re inside a classroom and have to be quiet in order to observe. It’s a trigonometry class by Kazama-sensei, whose teaching methods are interactive and enjoyable that Sho feels confident that the board will have nothing to say but praise as soon as it’s over.  
  
Kanjiya sidles up next to him and whispers a quick “thank you,” and Sho shoots her a questioning look.  
  
“For the save earlier,” she says, smiling. “I wasn’t expecting such a blunt question.”  
  
“You did well,” Sho assures her. “Once you took over, they had nothing else to say.”  
  
“Hopefully it all goes smoothly from now on,” she says, exhaling as discreetly as she can.  
  
Sho agrees with her, but he’s very careful not to look like his guard is down. He doesn’t know what Matsumoto’s play is. He knows he’s being watched, but he can’t tell if it’s curiosity or if the man is looking for a break in his armor that he can exploit in the future.  
  
At least Sho knows where he stands with mustached Mashima. The man’s a business consultant for Ohno and Associates, and it’s easy to predict what his mindset is. Shinonome is a source of money for him, an extension of the company’s ventures. He’s looking for possible problems the school might pose for the company.  
  
Sugimoto is one of the chief accountants of the company, and like Mashima, Shinonome is just another source of income and perhaps additional paperwork for Ohno and the board. She’s here to closely examine if Shinonome deserves all the funds it’s getting and if the money is being put to good use.  
  
Hatano is the secretary of one of the chief members of the board, and Sho expected her to be the one keeping a close eye on him. But in a hilarious turn of events, Hatano seems completely smitten with Aiba, and all her questions are directed to him.  
  
Which leaves Matsumoto, and Sho darts a glance at him. Being a lawyer, he’s the most difficult one to predict. Sho has caught him taking a few notes on his phone from time to time, thumbs too quick for Sho to catch whatever he’s typing.  
  
If Sho’s on his guard today, it’s only for one person.  
  
Kazama-sensei’s class reaches its conclusion, and Sho ushers their visitors to the faculty room to meet the rest of his staff. It’s lunch break, and while students are beginning their trip to the cafeteria, Sho braces himself for impromptu interviews with his staff.  
  
A tap on his shoulder makes him stop, and a handsome face greets him when he turns his head.  
  
“Do you have a moment?” Matsumoto asks, his expression not giving anything away.  
  
Sho exchanges a look with Aiba, who simply nods in understanding.  
  
“Of course,” he says, leading Matsumoto outside. They walk in silence until they reach a deserted stairwell, and Sho looks at him expectantly. “What is it?”  
  
“By now, those three are probably asking your staff a couple of questions,” Matsumoto says. They both know it. Sho doesn’t understand why he has to hear this.  
  
Then it clicks. “Ah,” Sho says, inclining his head. “Will you put me on the stand?”  
  
That makes Matsumoto laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides. “No. I have nothing to ask you. I already have everything worth reporting to Satoshi, anyway.”  
  
“I suppose I won’t get to know if you have good or bad things to say?” Sho asks.  
  
Matsumoto meets his gaze, and Sho’s reminded of the first time they met. The man is confidence personified. “I did interview a few students earlier.”  
  
Sho blinks. He hasn’t noticed at all. And from the look on Matsumoto’s face, he knows Sho was unaware until now.  
  
“They didn’t tell you they hacked into my work computer, did they?” Sho asks, trying to make the conversation light.  
  
Matsumoto grins. “No one knows your laptop password. What do you think the students told me about their new principal?”  
  
“That I’m uptight?” Sho tries. It won’t be the first time he’s been described that way. “Young and probably inexperienced? Unmarried for reasons unknown?”  
  
“Close,” Matsumoto says, laughing a little. “They think the rise in the student population is because of your looks.”  
  
Sho doesn’t expect that, and he can feel heat climbing up his cheeks. “That’s not true.”  
  
“Would I lie?” Matsumoto asks, sounding offended. But his eyes remain playful, almost amused.  
  
Sho pointedly looks at the badge pinned to the lapel of his coat. “Yes.”  
  
“Would I lie to you?” Matsumoto asks again, giving emphasis to his last two words, and Sho considers it.  
  
He clears his throat. “They really said that?”  
  
“And yes, they’re wondering why you’re unmarried,” Matsumoto says. “They think you will develop a relationship with one of the faculty members by the end of the year. They also think Shinonome would steadily welcome transferees once the school starts winning competitions since you’re also expected to climb up the stage to receive the award on behalf of the school.”  
  
Sho shakes his head, fighting the blush that threatens to color his entire face. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes at his temples. Teenagers have a lot of time on their hands to be able to speculate so much, and Sho’s envious of how they manage their time.  
  
“You’re blushing, Kouchou-sensei,” Matsumoto says, and he laughs when Sho glares at him. “You didn’t imagine that your students would find you attractive?”  
  
“I’m thirty-six years old,” Sho says, a little defensive. “I didn’t think I’d still be noticed by young girls.”  
  
“And young boys,” Matsumoto supplies. Sho gawks at him, and he only nods. “Don’t be so exclusive.”  
  
Their eyes meet, and Sho frowns. “You’re not making fun of me, are you?”  
  
“While that’s fun to do, right now, I’m really not,” Matsumoto says. “You should have heard how some of them gush over you.”  
  
Sho would really rather not. “I think I’m good,” he says. “Will that be all?”  
  
Matsumoto looks past him, then faces him once more. “Would it be a bother if I ask you to take me to the library again?”  
  
Sho’s eyes narrow. “To interview students? Is that a good idea with me present?”  
  
“To interview the librarian,” Matsumoto corrects. “And yes, it is.” Sho frowns, utterly confused. “After all, I’m just going to ask for a book.”  
  
Sho opens his mouth to ask what would a lawyer want in a high school library, but he realizes it’s his job to cater to the whims of the visitors today. Matsumoto seems to reach the same conclusion, eyeing him expectantly.  
  
With a sigh he barely suppresses, Sho tilts his head in a wordless gesture for Matsumoto to follow him.

\--

Matsumoto candidly interviews the librarian, Ichimura-san, who seems more accommodating and more generous with her smiles than usual. Sho sees the charm put to work: the casual way Matsumoto has his forearm draped on the counter, the lazy looseness of his shoulders as he leans his weight on one foot.  
  
Ichimura is a single woman in her early thirties, and while all of her Sho’s conversations with her were purely about the library expansion and book acquisitions for the month, she’s showing a side to Matsumoto that Sho’s never seen before. Sho waits for her to search the catalog before he faces Matsumoto once more.  
  
“It comes naturally?” he asks.  
  
Matsumoto feigns innocence. It’s obvious because he doesn’t exert effort to hide it. “What is?”  
  
“The charm.”  
  
“So you find me charming.”  
  
Sho runs his eyes over his form and sees nothing worth denying. Matsumoto Jun is charming. His eyes gravitate to the only gold in Matsumoto’s suit jacket.  
  
It comes with the job.  
  
“Lawyers have to be, don’t they?” Sho says. He’s aware Ichimura is listening in, though she’s probably after Matsumoto’s response more than Sho’s.  
  
“You think we’re all like this?” Matsumoto asks, smiling. “You should meet Toma.”  
  
Sho doesn’t know who that is. He frowns until Matsumoto notices his expression and clarifies with “My partner in the firm. He’s not charming in the slightest.”  
  
“So you’re the charming one and he’s…?” Sho gives Matsumoto another once-over. “The attractive one?”  
  
Matsumoto’s eyes widen, and Sho laughs. “Oh, you should definitely meet Toma. Then you can take that back,” Matsumoto says, glaring at him. Sho continues chuckling. “I keep him around because he’s handy, but that’s it.”  
  
“You seem very fond of him,” Sho notes after he recovered.  
  
Matsumoto gives him a bewildered stare, and it’s so comical that Sho laughs again.  
  
“Me? Fond of Toma?” Matsumoto shudders. “He copies my perfume and my accessories. He’s a guy with zero originality.”  
  
Ichimura clears her throat, and Matsumoto turns to her. She hands him a slip where Matsumoto can find his book, and Matsumoto thanks her politely. He faces Sho once more and raises the slip, trapped between two long fingers. Sho notices he has a beauty mark close to one of his knuckles.  
  
How many of those does the guy have?  
  
“Did Ohno-san send you here to give me someone to babysit?” Sho asks as he follows Matsumoto to the right shelf.  
  
“Careful, Kouchou-sensei,” Matsumoto says lightly, “I still have to write about my experience today.”  
  
Sho waits until they reach the correct aisle and Matsumoto locates his book. Upon closer inspection, Sho sees it’s a journal, and when he reads the title, it’s about censorship.  
  
“This really isn’t part of your job as the company’s legal advisor, is it?” Sho asks.  
  
Matsumoto begins scanning the journal, seemingly heedless of what Sho just told him.  
  
When Sho is beginning to think he won’t respond, he defies expectations once more.  
  
“I do many things for Satoshi that aren’t part of my official job description,” Matsumoto says quietly, as if anyone can hear them though they are in a deserted part of the library. “We go way back. He’s helped me a lot when I was still new and inexperienced, taking a chance on me.” Matsumoto looks at him. “There’s hardly anything I won’t do for him.”  
  
Sho doesn’t know what to say that. He’s gathered that Ohno has a unique relationship with Matsumoto, but the depth of that is something he hasn’t imagined.  
  
Matsumoto resumes reading, and they remain silent for the next few minutes save for the sound of pages flipping. Sho checks his watch for the time, and he catches the corner of Matsumoto’s lips lifting in a smile.  
  
“Are you needed somewhere, Kouchou-sensei?”  
  
Sho considers it. Lunch break is almost over, but he’s prepared the faculty on what to do in case he has to attend to other matters. Granted, he never thought “other matters” would involve following a lawyer around the school, but Sho’s always been quick to adapt. It’s what made his transition from Takasaki to Tokyo smooth despite what happened before.  
  
“Lunch break is ending,” is all he says.  
  
Matsumoto lifts his head, revealing the column of his pale neck. “Ah,” he says. “You can leave a thirty-four-year-old alone; don’t worry.”  
  
Sho almost snorts but holds himself back. He’s had Aiba and Kanjiya watch over the other three, knowing they can be professional and civil if need be. He tasked himself with watching out for the most unpredictable visitor of the day, and he’s looking at that man at present.  
  
“I’m not certain of what you might do if I leave you on your own,” Sho admits. He can’t lie to this lawyer anyway.  
  
Matsumoto slams the journal shut, putting it back on the shelf. He then leans against it, arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t trust easily, do you?”  
  
“I’m being careful,” Sho says. “I’ve only been on the job for like, two months.”  
  
“Two months and they’re watching over you like a hawk because they can’t believe that you accomplished in a month what your predecessor took half a year to do,” Matsumoto says. “That’s the board’s real reason, you know. Yokota was the principal the board hired because when Satoshi became the CEO, Shinonome still wasn’t part of his share and holdings. In the end, when the transfer of assets was completed, Satoshi got Shinonome and became responsible for anything that happens in it.”  
  
“Essentially, what you’re saying is they’re watching me because they can’t believe Ohno-san is capable of hiring someone who can do their job?”  
  
Matsumoto inclines his head to the side. “They want Shinonome back in the board’s hands. The board owns forty-five percent of the company. If they get Shinonome back, they will own fifty, which is as much as Satoshi would own in that event.” His eyes narrow. “My job is to make sure Satoshi keeps his fifty-five.”  
  
Sho understands now. “That’s why you dragged me all the way here, away from those three colleagues of yours.” He has to admit, that was a clever move. Here, no one can see what Sho’s doing. No one can psychoanalyze his behavior and report him for anything. “Is everything you do premeditated?”  
  
Both of Matsumoto’s eyebrows lift in surprise. “I thought you’d say practical.”  
  
“No,” Sho says. “Premeditated is the right word. I admit I’m not very knowledgeable on corporate politics and defer to your expertise, Matsumoto-sensei. But I know when someone has thought about something and when someone is winging it.”  
  
“You don’t think I’m the type who wings it?”  
  
Sho thinks about it. “Depends.” He looks around. “The library was a spur of the moment kind of choice. But dragging me away wasn’t.”  
  
“What do you think my colleagues for today have asked your staff in your absence?” Matsumoto asks, but there’s something. There’s always something with what he says, and Sho looks at him seriously until he deduces it for what it is.  
  
“You,” he says disbelievingly, laughing in astonishment. “You told them you’d handle me, didn’t you? That they should entrust me to you and deal with the faculty instead.” With Matsumoto’s charm, it must’ve been easy to convince the board’s representatives. “Before all of you came here.”  
  
Matsumoto blinks, like he wasn’t expecting Sho to put two and two together and make that conclusion.  
  
Sho smiles. “Did you underestimate me, Matsumoto-sensei?”  
  
“Usually,” Matsumoto begins when he recovers, the stern expression on his face returning, “I encounter people like you in courtrooms.”  
  
“People like me,” Sho repeats. “People who think, you mean? That seems a little condescending.”  
  
Matsumoto’s expression flickers. “People who observe,” he clarifies. With his face, it must’ve been an ordinary occurrence for him to be misinterpreted. Matsumoto straightens, abandoning the relaxed posture from earlier. “Tell me what you thought of today’s visit.”  
  
One of Sho’s eyebrows quirks. “So suddenly?”  
  
“Kouchou-sensei,” Matsumoto says seriously, and Sho feels compelled to listen to every word he’s about to say, “I’m trying to help you keep your job. It’s three against one. You may have briefed your faculty on what to say, but the board’s representatives can be as persuasive as me if needed. If anyone badmouths you, that can escalate to something you’re not prepared for.”  
  
“You need the PTA to file a complaint to make it bigger,” Sho says.  
  
Matsumoto takes a deep breath. “You’re in Shinonome. Here, it’s all about money.”  
  
“Which I’m trying to change,” Sho insists.  
  
Matsumoto looks irritated with being interrupted. “I know. But in a place where money is everything, what do you think the board is likely to do if they’re set to have Shinonome back in their hands?”  
  
Sho knows. They’ll pay the PTA to badmouth him, to do to him what has happened to the previous principal. He casts a wary glance in Matsumoto’s direction. “Tell me Ohno-san didn’t do something as dirty as that to have Yokota replaced so he’d have Shinonome.”  
  
Matsumoto seems simultaneously appalled and disgusted by the idea, expression darkening. “You dare think of Satoshi going as low as that? He’d never. Yokota was a careless employee who had his eyes set on money, nothing more. Satoshi only did what he had to do.”  
  
Someone with a backbone, Ohno once said to him. Sho remembers Ohno saying he didn’t wish to fire Yokota, if only the man stood for himself.  
  
He rests his back against a shelf, grounding himself. Applying for a private institution seemed like the perfect opportunity presented to him after working at a public high school, but he never thought of the company intricacies and how it can affect him.  
  
There’s so much at stake here. He wants to laugh at himself for thinking Shinonome is just a small portion of Ohno’s assets. He failed to factor in that every portion matters in corporate politics.  
  
“I think Mashima-san is the one who’s likely to fish for negative feedback on me,” Sho says, shutting his eyes. “Sugimoto-san seems like a quiet one, but I think she will look for faults on the improvements I’ve made in Shinonome’s facilities.” Another exhale. “And Hatano-san may seem to like Aiba-sensei, but I don’t think that will last.” He looks at Matsumoto. “And I don’t know what to think of you, aside from your tangerines being sweet.”  
  
Matsumoto smiles at the tangerines bit. “We plan to deliberate after this,” he says, and Sho’s positive this is something he shouldn’t know. “The four of us. Just to gather each other’s input before we turn in our individual reports about the visit. I think it’s what I have to say that they’ll be after since I spent the longest time with you.”  
  
“Why are you telling me this?” Sho asks, curious. When he thinks he’s got Matsumoto figured out, the man surprises him by proving he’s not as predictable as he seems.  
  
“Because I want you to know that whatever they gather about you, my words still carry more weight since it’s me who’s here with you,” Matsumoto says.  
  
“So I shouldn’t worry?” Sho asks. “Is that it?”  
  
“Are you worried?”  
  
Their gazes meet. “I still don’t know what to think of you,” Sho says after a moment.  
  
“If I’m on anyone’s side, it’s Satoshi’s,” Matsumoto says. “If Satoshi’s on your side, then by extension, I’m also on your side.”  
  
That’s reassuring, but only in the slightest bit. Sho is not the type who trusts easily. But considering the circumstances, he has no choice but to take Matsumoto’s words at face value.  
  
Sho takes another deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He has to adapt. It’s what he’s good at, he reminds himself. There’s no point in building barriers in front of the man who might be his only ally. “What do you need, Matsumoto-sensei?”  
  
“To be exact? Your plans for the next few months,” Matsumoto says, making Sho gawk at him. He smiles, the easygoing demeanor returning. “But for starters, perhaps a tour to your office.”  
  
Sho nods, acquiescing. He gestures for Matsumoto to follow him. “It’s this way.”  
  
\--  
  
Matsumoto interviews a few students who are lingering on the corridors allowing Sho to hear first hand how true Matsumoto’s claims were about his looks.  
  
“My sister wants to enter Shinonome after seeing Kouchou-sensei,” a student says, and Matsumoto casts a knowing glance in Sho’s direction while Sho looks away.  
  
He waits until they’re in his office.  
  
“Have you had your fun?” he asks.  
  
“I think I’ve proven my point,” Matsumoto says, taking a seat on one of the couches after Sho gives him permission to do so. “Are you fixing your files to make your desk more presentable or are you subtly trying to hide something from me?”  
  
Sho pauses in the middle of the task. “I’m fixing the papers so as not to offend your aesthetics.”  
  
“You think an overcrowded desk bothers me?”  
  
Sho pointedly looks at Matsumoto’s shiny leather shoes. Not a speck of dust or chalk powder clung to it despite the number of classrooms and library shelves they passed by.  
  
“Yes,” Sho answers simply.  
  
Matsumoto snorts. Sho feels his every moment watched as he stacks his files one after the other, and when he’s done, he hands a folder to Matsumoto who eyes it skeptically.  
  
“You asked for my plans,” Sho says by way of an explanation.  
  
Matsumoto seems amused. “Kouchou-sensei, I knew you were prepared, but I didn’t think you were this prepared.” He takes the folder and Sho sits across him.  
  
“I did ask earlier if you underestimated me,” Sho says as Matsumoto reads through what’s inside. It’s all the drafts of the letters he plans to submit to various institutions in order to have Shinonome participate in different events. It also includes the tentative calculations he’s made with Aiba regarding the future expenses of the school.  
  
Matsumoto sets the folder on the table after scanning through everything that’s inside. “That’s a lot of money for a sports day.”  
  
“A sports day requires a lot of money,” Sho says. Aiba considered what the PTA had to say, and that meant catering to whatever they desired. Most of the parents belong to the upper stratum, with wealth and resources. If they pay an expensive tuition fee, they want their money’s worth.  
  
What they fail to realize is that a portion of that money goes to the company, and whatever Sho has to use for the school budget also has to be approved by the company. The tentative amount Matsumoto saw was the highest projection, but Sho predicts that whatever the final amount will be, it’ll be close to his and Aiba’s estimates.  
  
“Satoshi will consult me once you submit that letter of request,” Matsumoto informs him. “Here’s your warning that it’s a lot of money, and that it’ll benefit you if the board’s representatives don’t see that particular letter. We can renegotiate that amount when the time comes, but it’s too early for that.” Matsumoto checks his watch. “You still have a few weeks until the sports day.”  
  
Sho picks up the folder and calmly removes the said letter from it. When he looks up, Matsumoto’s watching him intently.  
  
“Anything else?” he asks.  
  
“Is Shinonome capable of joining an academic competition?” Matsumoto asks back.  
  
This is question Sho has braced himself for, and he delivers a practiced answer with ease. “We’re planning to send our brightest students as representatives. There’s a special school organization dedicated to tutoring these specific students, to hone their knowledge further. I’m not proposing that we join just for the sake of participation; we join in hopes of winning.”  
  
Matsumoto smiles, and it’s done so slowly that Sho prepares himself for any teasing barb.  
  
“Was that rehearsed, Kouchou-sensei?”  
  
“Did I rush it?” Sho asks.  
  
“I feel like that’s the same response your faculty has given my colleagues,” Matsumoto says, which is the truth, but Sho won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that so soon. He’ll find out later anyway, when he meets up with the other three visitors. “Which is good, because they can’t question the letter anymore and its accompanying budget request.”  
  
“I asked for money to hire a bus to transport the students if ever,” Sho says. “How expensive a bus can be?”  
  
“Depends on what bus it is,” Matsumoto says. “The school has a reputation.”  
  
“I didn’t ask for a double-decker,” Sho reasons, making Matsumoto laugh.  
  
“No, you didn’t. I’ll remind Satoshi that you want it simple.” Matsumoto rests his cheek against his knuckles, and he looks so relaxed and at home that for a moment, it’s as if it’s _his_ office they’re in and Sho’s the intruder. “You seem to want everything to be simple.”  
  
“I’m not fond of overly complicated things,” Sho says.  
  
“I noticed,” Matsumoto tells him. “Shall we make things less complicated?” Without waiting for Sho’s response, he crosses his legs and schools his features to seriousness. “By now, my colleagues are giving out forms for your faculty to fill up.”  
  
Sho frowns. He hasn’t heard of this.  
  
Matsumoto seems to pick up on this, eyes fixed on the shifts in Sho’s expression. “It’s like a survey, asking to rate the current administration and the company by extension and asking for their written comments. Indirectly, it’s asking about you. It’s why you’re here with me; when I promised I’d deal with you, it also meant promising to keep you out of their way so they can hand over those forms.”  
  
“So you’re preventing me to influence the faculty in any way?”  
  
“We don’t want biases,” Matsumoto says, and Sho sees the lawyer behind the man. “That’s what’s happening right now. That’s why I asked to see your plans. I had to know if you’re all talk.”  
  
“And am I?” Sho asks. “All talk?”  
  
Matsumoto’s lips twitch. “Your folder says you’re not.”  
  
Sho glances at the folder between them. “And what will your report say?”  
  
The corner of Matsumoto’s mouth lifts in a smirk. “The truth. It’s what we lawyers stand for.”  
  
A beat passes.  
  
“Was that rehearsed, Matsumoto-sensei?”  
  
This time, Sho expects the grin. “Did I rush it?” Matsumoto asks.  
  
Sho sighs, resting his back against the couch, neck extended so he can gaze at the ceiling. He knows he’s being watched, and he’s spent enough time with Matsumoto Jun to become accustomed to the feeling of it.  
  
He doesn’t know what to make of this man. One moment, Sho feels like he knows what Matsumoto’s play is, then in the next, he has no idea at all.  
  
“You think I’ll get fired after this?” is what he asks in the end. He no longer bothers to modulate his voice properly, letting his exhaustion seep through. Too much mind games for the day is making his head hurt. He hasn’t even had lunch.  
  
“Kouchou-sensei,” Matsumoto says softly, and Sho drags his eyes from the ceiling to look at him, “if I can, I’ll prevent that from happening.”  
  
To cause fewer problems for Ohno, of course. They both know this. Sho doesn’t want to give Ohno more cause to worry. He has the man’s trust. He’s won it.  
  
He has to prove he deserves it.  
  
“And can you?” Sho asks.  
  
Matsumoto holds his gaze. “We’ll see.”  
  
\--  
  
Sho only allows himself to breathe when the Lexus finally drives out of the school. It’s already late afternoon and the students have all gone home. Matsumoto’s chatting animatedly with Aiba, who shares a few laughs with him as he climbs down the steps to head for his car.  
  
For the rest of that afternoon, Sho accompanied Matsumoto wherever the man wished to go. Eventually, they rejoined the group, visiting a few classrooms and sitting in a few classes just to give their observers a little more to work with.  
  
The school’s ledgers were also reviewed before Sho got grilled regarding his plans for the upcoming months, and he’s grateful he listened to Matsumoto’s sound advice and removed the letter regarding the sports day. Sugimoto, the accountant, was very particular with every cent the school spends. The day felt longer when Sho had to show her whatever data they had.  
  
Sho descends down the steps and guides Matsumoto to his car.  
  
“Thank you for today, Matsumoto-sensei,” he says, offering his hand.  
  
Matsumoto takes it, shaking it firmly. “You didn’t change your number in your card, did you?”  
  
Sho’s eyes narrow. He remembers giving his card to Matsumoto, back when they first met. “No. Why?”  
  
“If they have something negative to say about you, I can at least verify it if I can contact you,” Matsumoto says as he unlocks his car and opens the car door.  
  
It’s still a very fancy car in Sho’s eyes, standing out in the middle of a school courtyard despite the sun already setting and the buildings casting large shadows. Sho doesn’t know if it’s purchased to intimidate or to stand out, but since it’s Matsumoto’s, it’s likely both.  
  
“Striving for the truth, Matsumoto-sensei?” Sho asks, stepping back as Matsumoto climbs inside.  
  
“I told you. It’s what we lawyers stand for.” He inclines his head. “Until next time, Kouchou-sensei.”  
  
Sho takes a few more steps backward and bows as deeply as he can. He doesn’t straighten his trunk until he hears Matsumoto speeding away, and he spins on his heel, turning back.  
  
Aiba meets his gaze as soon as he reaches the steps.  
  
“Beer?” Aiba asks hopefully, and Sho nods, finally letting his exhaustion show.  
  
“We deserve it,” he says, and Aiba laughs.  
  
\--  
  
Aiba takes him to a local izakaya, and the moment Sho loosens his tie as he takes a seat, he feels like a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders.  
  
“Drink up, Sho-chan,” Aiba says. In private, Kouchou-sensei becomes Sho-chan, and Sho’s grateful for it. He’s been working closely with Aiba for a few months now that they’ve become familiar with one another.  
  
Times like this, Sho considers Aiba as a friend.  
  
Sho does as Aiba asked, downing a good portion of his beer while they wait for the rest of their order. He runs a hand over his face and hears Aiba chuckle.  
  
“Matsujun didn’t make things difficult for you, I hope?” Aiba asks.  
  
“Matsujun?” Sho repeats. Then it clicks. “You call him that?”  
  
Aiba shrugs. With him, it’s easy to fall into a sense of security and familiarity. Matsumoto probably felt that too; why else would Aiba call the man with a portmanteau that sounds too much like something an idol uses?  
  
“He’s been to the school a couple of times before, back when Yokota-san was still the principal. Whenever Yokota-san asks for money from the company, Matsujun visits just to verify the amount. Yokota-san used to complain that we get a lower budget because of him,” Aiba recalls fondly, chuckling to himself. “He’s been to the school almost every day when the entire thing blew up with Yokota-san.”  
  
Sho frowns at that. “Almost every day?”  
  
Aiba looks confused now. “Yeah. Why?”  
  
Sho laughs to himself, shaking his head. All day long, Matsumoto asked to be taken to places. Matsumoto did say he’s been to Shinonome before, but Sho neglected to ask how often he’d visited. “He dragged me around as his tour guide for the entire day.”  
  
That makes Aiba laugh, an infectious sound that has Sho joining him in seconds. “Matsujun’s probably acting on orders. Or just doing what he wants, you know? He’s kind of hard to predict.”  
  
“No kidding,” Sho agrees. “What role did he play regarding the Yokota scandal?”  
  
Aiba takes another sip of his beer. “We were all thinking the company sent him to defend Yokota-san in case they had to go to court. The parents were very adamant regarding his removal from his position. But that required a series of deliberations within the company, so we thought Matsujun was visiting us to defend Yokota-san should it be necessary. Matsujun did interview him a couple of times.”  
  
“But he didn’t defend him,” Sho says. “Ohno-san told me Yokota-san left on his own volition to save face.”  
  
“His resignation did solve the problem,” Aiba agrees with a nod. “Matsujun didn’t defend him because he was against the increases in tuition fees in the first place. I know because with every faculty meeting, Yokota-san always warned us about not breathing a word to Matsujun should he visit.” Aiba smiles. “You can imagine how that went.”  
  
With Matsumoto’s looks, it was obvious that some of the teachers didn’t follow through with the plan. Sho has witnessed how charming Matsumoto can be if he puts his mind to it. That undoubtedly worked multiple times in the past.  
  
“So it’s on Matsumoto-sensei’s word that Yokota-san was advised to resign or he’d be fired,” Sho concludes. If Matsumoto was against the exorbitant fees, that was another mark against Yokota.  
  
No wonder he wants to keep Shinonome in Ohno’s hands. He’s gone to lengths for Ohno to have it.  
  
“We don’t know much about how the company works,” Aiba admits, and Sho shares his sentiments. “But Matsujun’s a good guy, and he just wants the best for the school. I don’t understand his attachment since he’s not an alumnus, but maybe it’s because he’s been in the company for a while as its legal advisor.”  
  
Sho picks up a stick of yakitori and stars eating. “He read a high school journal about censorship in the library earlier. I think it was him passing the time.”  
  
“He did keep you to himself earlier, Sho-chan,” Aiba says thoughtfully. “Did he spill anything we need to prepare for next time?”  
  
This is one of the things Sho likes about Aiba: the man knows how to pick up cues and how to prioritize. It makes him an effective administrator and the perfect confidant for school-related troubles.  
  
“If I don’t get fired, our plans push through,” Sho says, and he senses Aiba’s surprise. He simply nods. “The entire point of that visit is to see if I can do my job.” He looks at Aiba. “Did you hear any questions about me?”  
  
“Answered a few, yeah,” Aiba confirms. “But it’s mostly about your transition since this is the first time you became a high school principal. I didn’t think the company would go into such lengths just to see our progress. They weren’t like this with Yokota-san.”  
  
Sho lets out a breath. “Well, things were less complicated when Yokota-san was the principal. The only unfortunate thing is that his laptop got hacked.”  
  
Aiba clasps his shoulder and squeezes once. “Don’t worry, Sho-chan. We didn’t give them anything that could jeopardize your position. We know you’re just trying to improve the school’s system. You may be a little fast-paced, but that’s all right. You make us work hard.”  
  
Sho offers Aiba a small smile. “Thanks. I hope the others see it that way.” He takes a sip of his beer, hoping it’ll soothe his worries away. “Matsumoto-sensei told me they have to submit a report about today. That’s mostly about me, so hopefully, there’s nothing big that will warrant another summon to Ohno-san’s office.”  
  
“Are the summons that dreadful?” Aiba asks.  
  
Sho shakes his head immediately. “No. The last time, I was given tangerines from Okinawa.” Aiba’s mouth comically forms an O, and Sho nods. “It’s just that I don’t know what to expect every time I go to that office, and when I don’t know what to expect—”  
  
“You overthink a little,” Aiba finishes for him. “Yeah, that seems fair. I guess all we can do for now is wait? There’s little else we can do. We weren’t exactly prepared.”  
  
Sho purses his lips, and he feels Aiba study him.  
  
Then Aiba nods to himself. “You knew. You knew they’d visit today.”  
  
Sho nods. There’s no point pretending he doesn’t; it’s done. “I was informed of it and was advised to act like I knew nothing. But it’s why I had those letters drafted. It’s why we kept staying late last week. I’m sorry for not informing you.”  
  
Aiba waves it off. “If the company told you to act like you know nothing, it was the right thing to do. But I thought you were becoming a little hardcore last week, so it’s nice to finally get an explanation for it. At least we had something to show when they asked.”  
  
Sho raises his glass in a toast. “Here’s hoping what we did is enough.”  
  
“And that the next time Matsujun visits, Hatano-san is no longer with him,” Aiba says, clinking their glasses together and making Sho laugh.  
  
“Did she ask for your number, Aiba-chan?” he asks.  
  
“And for my schedule! I had to tell her I was preparing the baseball team for the playoffs,” Aiba says, exasperated. He’s fanning his face using his hands, and Sho is tickled by the sight of him so flushed and embarrassed. “She was consistently at my side, Sho-chan! One minute she’s asking about your administrative decisions, and the next minute she’s asking for my days off. And you know me, Sho-chan. I’m incapable of lying.”  
  
“You are,” Sho agrees, still chuckling.  
  
“So now, every time my phone pings with an email, I don’t want to look at it,” Aiba says, and Sho pats his shoulder reassuringly.  
  
“How old is she again?” Sho asks.  
  
Aiba fixes him with a look. “Fifty-five,” Aiba mouths, and Sho laughs again. “You keep laughing because you’re not the one repeatedly hit on. I had to think of ways to rebuff her flirting every five minutes.”  
  
“I just find it funny that you attracted someone older,” Sho says, raising both hands to appease Aiba. “During the most unexpected, crucial moment for the school.”  
  
“Shihori-chan and the others kept teasing me, that maybe they’ll be nice to us because one of them fancies me,” Aiba complains. “If being dragged around by Matsujun was tough for you, at least it’s not Hatano-san who kept asking if I was single or not.”  
  
“If I don’t get fired, I owe it to you,” Sho says jokingly, and Aiba elbows his side. “No, seriously. Without your looks, Aiba-chan, I’d be done for.”  
  
Aiba steals his yakitori as a form of revenge, ignoring his horrified screech. “If I get a mail from her, I’m demanding hazard pay.”  
  
Sho swats at Aiba’s arm playfully. “That bad?”  
  
“Fifty-five,” Aiba mouths again, and Sho allows himself to fully loosen up, laughing as loud as he wants.  
  
\--  
  
The next few weeks are tense for Sho; he’s on his guard the moment someone pays the school a visit. It’s usually just an inquiring parent or a PTA member with a few questions regarding the recent changes in school policies, but Sho’s bracing himself for any impromptu visits from the company representatives.  
  
Until it’s been a month and Sho doesn’t receive any kind of letter reprimanding him or telling him he’s lost his job. All he receives is a box of tangerines from Okinawa with the company logo attached to the card. Ninomiya only emails him regarding the receipt of his letters and promises to get back to him by the end of the week.  
  
The day of the sports day, Sho spots a black Ferrari in the school courtyard and wonders what Ohno might be up to, sending his trusted lawyer here once more.  
  
He types a quick text to Aiba, saying they have a visitor, and makes his way to the car.  
  
Matsumoto is, thankfully, still inside, and Sho knocks on his car window twice to get his attention.  
  
“Here to participate in a three-legged race?” Sho asks, trying to be casual.  
  
“Depends on the partner,” Matsumoto says. He’s in a crisp, well-tailored suit as always, every strand of hair perfectly in place. “Hello, Kouchou-sensei. Did you receive the tangerines?”  
  
“Hello,” Sho greets back. “I did. I figured you were the one behind that?”  
  
“I sent two boxes to Satoshi just to piss him off,” Matsumoto says with a laugh. “He told me he sent one to you and made Nino take the other box home. Now Nino’s planting tangerines in his home garden and is hoping they’ll accompany his green peppers once they all sprout.”  
  
“Are you planting them as well?” Sho asks. “I can give the seeds to you if you like.”  
  
Matsumoto unclasps his seatbelt and turns the car off. “I plant lemons.”  
  
“Fancy,” Sho says. “As fancy as everything about you, of course.”  
  
Matsumoto rolls up the car window and Sho steps back as Matsumoto climbs off his car. When he buttons the top button of his suit jacket, Sho waits.  
  
“I’m not really here on official business,” Matsumoto says, which surprises Sho. The visit itself is unexpected, but for the reason to be unexpected as well…  
  
Sho’s not prepared for this.  
  
“Sack race, then? Egg and spoon?” Sho tries.  
  
That wins him one of Matsumoto’s disarming smiles. “Officially, I’m not. This is an incognito job from Satoshi which earned him the tangerines. I’m supposed to observe whether the budget you requested is reasonable and not squandered.”  
  
Sho opens his mouth, but Matsumoto cuts him off. “Not part of my job, I know. But it’s the closest thing to a day off for me, so I said yes.” He inclines his head. “Shall we to the gymnasium?”  
  
“I’m supposed to deliver a speech to officially begin the sports day,” Sho tells him as they walk together. It’s hard not to notice how close in height they are, that glancing to his left gives him an unobstructed view of Matsumoto’s arresting profile.  
  
“Well, I look forward to that, Kouchou-sensei. I hope you don’t stumble on your words,” Matsumoto teases, and Sho almost rolls his eyes.  
  
“I won’t stutter just because you’re present. You’re giving yourself too much credit, Matsumoto-sensei.”  
  
Matsumoto turns to him, an eyebrow perfectly arched. “Really? I have this impression you don’t like being surprised because you don’t like being unprepared.”  
  
“It’s not like you’ll report to Ohno-san if I messed up my syllabication,” Sho points out.  
  
“No, but that won’t stop me from telling it to Nino, maybe,” Matsumoto says, just as they reach the gymnasium entrance.  
  
“That I can’t pronounce kanjis properly in the presence of the company lawyer?” Sho asks.  
  
“That Satoshi’s right: he did hire a cute principal,” Matsumoto says, pushing the door open and giving Sho no time to respond. Everyone’s gathered in the gym already, and Sho can feel his cheeks heating up.  
  
Matsumoto extends a hand, eyes glinting with amusement. “After you, Kouchou-sensei.”  
  
Sho curses him in his mind.  
  
\--  
  
The bad thing about having Matsumoto Jun in the school is that he disrupts the peace by simply existing. Single moms are fawning over him, trying to get his attention when all he does is merely stand there and observe, like a security personnel ready to spring into action in case a high schooler gets injured.  
  
He also distracts the students and some of the teachers, and the worst part for Sho is that he can’t complain about it because there’s really no basis. He can’t ask Matsumoto, Ohno’s representative, to leave just because he has an appealing face. It’s unheard of.  
  
But Sho watches as a third pair for the three-legged race stumbles on their footing, landing right before Matsumoto, who helps them to their feet after a lot of unnecessary fumbling, and he decides.  
  
“Aiba-sensei,” he says to his trusted administrator currently sporting a sun visor and a golden whistle, “is it just me or they’re deliberately tripping in front of Matsumoto-sensei?”  
  
“The Matsujun effect,” Aiba jokes, eyes crinkling as he laughs. “No, Kouchou-sensei. I think the first two times are excusable, but not the third.”  
  
So he’s not overreacting, Sho rationalizes. He nods and gestures to Aiba that he’ll take care of it, and he makes his way to Matsumoto, who seems to expect him.  
  
“Kouchou-sensei,” Matsumoto says when he’s close enough. “Lovely speech. I think you managed to boost the morale and spark a friendly competition in your students.”  
  
Sho can recognize the bullshit for what it is, and he simply nods. “Do you have a moment?”  
  
“Of course,” Matsumoto says, and he follows Sho to the bleachers. “I was wondering if you’d ask your security guards to drag me back to my car or if you’re going to do it yourself.”  
  
“You know what you’re doing,” Sho says, and Matsumoto feigns innocence, frowning for the briefest of moments.  
  
“Accidents can happen anytime,” Matsumoto says. “The floors are slippery in the gymnasium.”  
  
“Three stumbles right in front of you?” Sho asks, and Matsumoto grins. “You’re just visiting and already some of the parents are set to make you come back again.”  
  
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a teaching license,” Matsumoto says. “Loosen up, Kouchou-sensei. It’s not like I’ll get a fan club after my visit here.”  
  
This man, Sho thinks, has been giving him a headache every time they meet. The scent of his perfume lingers, his presence lingers. He makes an impression each time Sho sees him, and he says things so casually that Sho wonders if flirting is second nature to him.  
  
Because that’s what it is.  
  
Sho’s not blind; he’s not stupid either. But he knows the value of acting like he’s stupid, so he ignores it for what it is. But some people are not like him, and they fall prey to Matsumoto’s charm the moment he uses it on them.  
  
To Sho, dragging Matsumoto away is also to prevent him from charming too many of the teachers that they’ll say anything to make him happy. Sho’s protecting himself and the school; while Shinonome belongs under one of the many assets in Ohno’s name, there are private matters that only school personnel should know.  
  
“Do you do this with everyone you meet?” Sho asks, eyes fixed on the court. It’s a hurdle race, and Aiba is doing his best to facilitate from one end of the court while Kazama is handling the other side.  
  
“Do what?” Matsumoto asks.  
  
“Charm them,” Sho says. “Or does it come with the job?”  
  
If Matsumoto smiles, Sho doesn’t turn his head to see it. He follows with his eyes one of the students he knows, tracking his progress as he jumps flawlessly from one hurdle to another. Sho’s never been an athletic kid, and he’s always admired those who seemed to be born with the gift.  
  
“Not everyone,” Matsumoto says, almost too soft that Sho might have imagined it. “Just the ones I like.”  
  
Sho thinks of his female faculty members, some of the men too, and even Ichimura-san the librarian. He sees some of the parents and students looking at where they are, watching them.  
  
“I’m glad you like Shinonome, then,” is all he says.  
  
They watch the rest of the game in silence, but Sho can feel eyes on him.  
  
\--  
  
Matsumoto stays until the sports day concludes, listening to Sho’s speech with an amused expression and waving goodbye to some of the parents and students who leave before him. He seems to have gotten what he needed after spending the day under Sho’s watch: Sho did see him send a quick text to Ohno along with a photo that had his fingers in a peace sign.  
  
It seems Sho’s the only one bothered by Matsumoto’s presence; the faculty has taken a liking to him, inviting him for future events that Sho can only nod his assent for the lack of reasons to refuse. He’s certain Matsumoto has better things to do now that this favor from Ohno is done, but he doesn’t voice that out. The hope in Ichimura-san’s eyes is too pure to be shattered by Sho’s reality checks.  
  
Sho accompanies Matsumoto to his car, and he remains standing there, waiting for the man to leave. Once he leaves, Sho can breathe. He feels like he’s been holding his breath since that Ferrari arrived, and despite him not participating in any games, he’s exhausted.  
  
He doesn’t know why. There’s something about Matsumoto Jun’s presence that sets him off, that makes him uneasy and wary. He knows the man will never harm him or the school, but there’s something about him that makes him linger in Sho’s mind, even days after he’s gone.  
  
When it hits Sho, it’s sudden, like a spike of a fever upon waking up. He blinks to reassess, and it takes him a moment before he realizes Matsumoto is saying something to him.  
  
His eyes are brown. Sho’s never truly noticed that before.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Sho says. “What were you saying?”  
  
“This is the first time I’ve seen you tuning out,” Matsumoto says with a small smile. “Tired of babysitting a thirty-four-year-old already?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Sho says again, laughing a little at his state. Has it been that long? “I was just thinking.”  
  
“You always think,” Matsumoto says. Sho can’t deny that; he’s being careful. “I wonder what will get you to stop thinking.”  
  
“Food,” Sho admits. He’s really hungry. Maybe that’s it. He hasn’t had proper lunch and will likely have a delayed dinner because of leftover paperwork. He’s not looking forward to it. “And a clear desk, maybe.”  
  
Something changes in Matsumoto’s eyes, with the way he’s watching Sho. He runs a hand through his hair, making a mess of its perfect styling after an entire day. “Satoshi asked me to extend an invitation to you.”  
  
Sho stares at him. “What?”  
  
“That was what I was saying earlier. The company will hold its foundation day in a few weeks. Nino’s finalizing the date, but it’ll probably fall on a Friday night because they want a gala night. Satoshi asked me to invite you, since you’re part of the company.”  
  
If the invitation is from Ohno, Sho can’t refuse. The man’s been generous to him, agreeing to his budget proposals and letting him keep his job.  
  
“I see,” Sho says.  
  
“The invitation will arrive in a few days,” Matsumoto says, unlocking his car and opening the door. He doesn’t climb inside, however, instead removes his suit jacket to toss it in the passenger’s seat.  
  
Sho’s greeted by the sight of a toned chest with prominent muscles under a tight-fitting cotton shirt. With looks like Matsumoto’s, it’s natural that he also pays attention to the rest of his body. What Sho has at home is a stationary bike he uses regularly since he tries to keep up with the thirty-minute exercise each day regimen, to keep himself healthy.  
  
Matsumoto must possess a membership in some high-class gym facility in a high-rise apartelle somewhere. Sho eyes the Ferrari, and wonders why he never imagined Matsumoto under that suit. All that bulk couldn’t have been shoulder pads alone.  
  
“Attire?” Sho asks.  
  
“Your suits would do,” Matsumoto says. He finally climbs inside his car and shuts the door, only to roll the windows down. “Will you go?”  
  
“You said it yourself: I’m a company employee,” Sho says. “I have to go.”  
  
“No one’s forcing you,” Matsumoto insists, which makes Sho laugh a little.  
  
“I’ll go, Matsumoto-sensei. For Ohno-san.”  
  
Matsumoto nods in understanding, inclining his head. “Until then, Kouchou-sensei.”  
  
Sho steps back, bowing, and straightens immediately just as Matsumoto rolls up his car window halfway.  
  
“You’ll be there, of course?” Sho asks, just to be sure. He needs a friendly face in a night of politics and mind games.  
  
Matsumoto seems startled, but he recovers quickly, his confidence returning in moments. “Of course,” he says, smiling at Sho.  
  
“Until then, Matsumoto-sensei,” Sho says, bowing once more.  
  
He keeps his eyes on his feet until he hears the window rolling up, then the car speeds away, out of Shinonome and into the rest of Tokyo metropolis.  
  
\--  
  
Sho actually forgets about the foundation night because of the number of competitions he had to be present for. Shinonome wins more than she loses, and the losses only served to boost the morale of the students.  
  
Sho calls it a loss, but to Aiba, it’s a win. “Second place is not bad, Sho-chan,” Aiba keeps saying, and while that’s true, Sho can’t fault himself from being ambitious.  
  
It’s in his nature.  
  
He only remembers when the invitation comes via a formal looking email from Ninomiya, with Ohno’s signature affixed at the end of it. Sho’s required to come in formal attire for the following Friday, approximately two weeks after he’s last seen Matsumoto.  
  
It will be held in one of the function halls of Samejima Hotels, one of Ohno’s many assets. Ninomiya’s email is inquiring if Sho would require a service car, and Sho quickly types up a response that he doesn’t. He can always take the train.  
  
Sho’s problem is on what to wear, and there’s only one person who can help him with it.  
  
\--  
  
Aiba’s fashion sense is more suited for summer outfits and casual date attires, but he happily volunteers his expertise when Sho talks to him about it.  
  
They’re in Gotemba and Sho’s feet are beginning to swell and ache, but Aiba’s energy is limitless. They’ve been to nearly thirty stores already, but Sho is yet to find the suitable evening attire.  
  
Sho’s fine with any formal-looking, crisp suit that didn’t show off his sloping shoulders too much. But it’s Aiba who keeps frowning at everything he’s tried on, shaking his head and repeatedly saying, “It lacks a punch, Sho-chan.”  
  
“I’m not going there to punch someone,” Sho reasons when they leave store number thirty-one in Sho’s estimate. “I just want to look presentable if ever Ohno-san introduces me to the board.”  
  
“Which means you have to make an impression,” Aiba tells him. He’s an unstoppable force of nature once he’s got his mind made up, and Sho truly appreciates that attitude of his. But his feet are killing him. “You know how guys with money are, Sho-chan. They look down on most people.”  
  
“So you think they’ll look down on me?” Sho asks, following Aiba inside the next store.  
  
Aiba picks up a leather belt and puts it in line with Sho’s hips. “I’m entertaining the possibility. You told me they want you out of a job, right? They’ll find every fault there is.”  
  
Sho exhales, nodding. “Okay. I’ll listen to you, Aiba-sensei. But I’m not wearing anything other than black.”  
  
“Everybody’s going to wear black, Sho-chan,” Aiba says, perusing a shelf of colored bow ties. “When I said we need something with a punch, I mean it.”  
  
“So punch pertains to color?” Sho asks, frowning at the bow ties. Most of them are too vibrant. He’s not going to wear a sky blue one or a loud red one.  
  
“Punch might be color, but it’s all about finding the right color,” Aiba says.  
  
“How do you know so much about this again?” Sho asks, watching Aiba pick up a purple silken bow tie.  
  
Aiba raises the bow tie between them, as if he’s imagining Sho wearing it. Then he grins. “When my brother got married, I helped him coordinate for the groomsmen, being the best man myself. I still remember some of the tips I got from the wedding coordinator.”  
  
Sho eyes the bow tie in Aiba’s hands, following Aiba as he goes to the other side of the store to pick a suit jacket. “I’m going with purple?”  
  
“It’s not too eye-catchy since it’s a pretty dark shade, and it’s not black,” Aiba explains without looking at him. Sho watches him pull one jacket after another, checking which one matches with the bow tie he picked. “I told you, Sho-chan. Everyone’s going to wear black.”  
  
“I don’t want to stand out, Aiba-chan,” Sho says, but he helps Aiba look for a suitable jacket.  
  
“But we also don’t want you to just blend in,” Aiba tells him. “You already got the board’s attention because of your methods. Show them it’s not all hearsay.”  
  
Sho stares at Aiba for a moment and finds himself nodding. They sent three people to find faults in him, and whatever they gathered wasn’t sufficient to have Sho fired from his job. If the board is truly adamant to have him removed like what Matsumoto implied, he has to show them that there’s a reason he got the job.  
  
There’s a reason he’s still here.  
  
“Punch,” Sho says.  
  
Aiba grins. “Punch.”  
  
“Okay,” Sho says, nodding. “Okay, Aiba-sensei. Tell me what to do.”  
  
\--  
  
Friday comes just like a regular day—unnoticeable and almost abrupt, if only Sho hasn’t conditioned his mind that he has to socialize that night. He leaves the school earlier than usual and heads home to change, and once he’s in the evening attire Aiba picked out for him, he decides he can’t take the train.  
  
It’s too flashy. Perhaps not as flashy as Sho makes it out to be, but pretty flashy for Sho’s fashion sense. He deferred to Aiba’s expertise that day in Gotemba, and while the final decision had been up to him entirely, this is still not an outfit he can take to Hamamatsucho. He doesn’t want to be stared at while in the station.  
  
He books a taxi and tips the driver graciously the moment they arrive at Samejima. It’s a five-star hotel catering mostly to foreign tourists, but he’s been told by Ninomiya that it frequently serves as Ohno’s events hall if necessary.  
  
Sho heads to the penthouse where the gathering is taking place, and when the elevator doors open, he’s greeted by the sight of Ninomiya, who thankfully ditched his usual ties for a skinny, black one.  
  
“Sho-chan!” Ninomiya greets genially, smiling wide at him. He’s wearing a Bluetooth earpiece, and Sho sees him tap on it twice. “Welcome. Ohno-san’s grateful you can come.”  
  
“Anything for Ohno-san,” he says, taking Ninomiya’s proffered hand and shaking it. He sees Ninomiya looking at him from head to foot and steps back to help Ninomiya assess him better. “My administrator picked this out.”  
  
“Your administrator knows what’s up,” Ninomiya says, his smile never leaving his youthful face. In his dark, tailored suit, he seems paler than usual. “I’ve just informed Ohno-san that you’re here. You can find him where the drinks are; he’s not known for waiting until the middle of the night before he partakes.” Ninomiya throws a wink that makes Sho smile. “I hope you enjoy the night.”  
  
“Thank you,” Sho says, and he picks up a glass of martini from a roaming waiter as he tries to look for Ohno.  
  
The problem with looking for Ohno is that the man is shorter than most people, and Sho isn’t particularly gifted in that aspect either, so he takes a longer time to locate his boss. When he finds Ohno, he’s not alone.  
  
Ohno is in a three-piece, navy blue suit, his hair coiffed and styled in such a way that he looks younger. He sees Sho just before Sho opens his mouth, and Sho’s a little touched with the way Ohno’s face lights up.  
  
Ohno immediately faces him, greeting him by grasping his arms firmly. He’s had a few to drink, Sho realizes: his cheeks are beginning to pink.  
  
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says, and Sho confirms his theory; Ohno usually calls him Sakurai-san in the office. “I didn’t recognize you at first. You look amazing.”  
  
Sho is not expecting the compliment, and he takes a sip of his martini before he replies. “Thank you. You look very dashing tonight, Ohno-san.” Sho finally allows his eyes to move to the figure a few paces behind Ohno. “And you as well, Matsumoto-sensei.”  
  
Matsumoto is in a black suit paired with a black bow tie, looking much like everybody else, except he has that arresting profile and high cheekbones that makes him stand out despite his outfit being fairly ordinary in style.  
  
Sho sees Matsumoto give him a once-over, then another, until his gaze finally settles on Sho’s face. “Kouchou-sensei,” Matsumoto says. “You look very handsome.”  
  
There’s something in the way Matsumoto says it that makes Sho feel warmer, and he blames the martini. He simply inclines his head in thanks.  
  
“I like the purple bow tie and your matching cummerbund,” Ohno says, stepping aside to allow Sho to stay between them. “If anyone looks for you, you’ll be easy to find.”  
  
“Is anyone looking for me?” Sho asks, looking around for effect.  
  
“A few people,” Ohno says, grinning. “Don’t worry; you didn’t do anything wrong.”  
  
“If I did, I’d be summoned to your office and not to one of your hotels, I think,” Sho says.  
  
Ohno pats his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me what Shinonome’s been up to?”  
  
They take a walk, and Sho gives him the best bits: the competitions they’ve won, the ones where they came too close and bagged either second or third place. Shinonome is yet to return from a competition without a prize, and Sho tries his best to relay all of this to Ohno.  
  
“Essentially, you are doing what you promised me,” Ohno says after Sho’s done talking and is sipping his martini.  
  
“What I promised you?” Sho asks.  
  
“You told me you could lead,” Ohno says, head tilted to the side. “My board of executives aren’t the most pleasing colleagues on the planet, so they shared their doubts on that, but you stayed true to your word.” Ohno smiles. “I’m glad. They thought I was gambling when I chose you.”  
  
“Gambling seems a little…” Sho trails off, but Ohno nods.  
  
“Older people think they know everything,” Ohno whispers, so faint that Sho almost doesn’t hear him. “Sometimes I play along, most of the time I do the opposite just to prove I can think for myself. I’m glad Shinonome’s breaking its image of being just an expensive, elite school.”  
  
Sho observes Ohno and notices one thing. “You’re not that surprised.”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“When I reported to you about the school’s progress,” Sho elaborates. “You’re not that surprised about the school’s recent accomplishments.”  
  
“Oh,” Ohno says, laughing a little. “I’ve been told to expect it.”  
  
“By Ninomiya-san?” Sho guesses, despite having an inkling who it might be.  
  
Ohno merely points and Sho turns to scan the room, gaze landing where Matsumoto is sharing a few laughs with people Sho doesn’t know but similarly dressed as Matsumoto himself.  
  
“Jun has a lot of faith in you, Sho-kun,” Ohno says, which comes as a surprise. Sho never had the impression that he was able to impress Matsumoto in any way. “He told me I’d be a fool if I sack you.”  
  
“He said that?” Sho asks, appalled. The only person who stood for him in Takasaki was his colleague Ueda, and it’s been a long time since Sho’s the recipient of something like faith in his abilities, in his skills.  
  
“Well, his companions during the school visit weren’t the most delightful bunch of people,” Ohno says with a quiet laugh. “I spoke with all of them before I talked to Jun, and that’s the first thing Jun said to me. Don’t tell him you know; he’ll deny it.”  
  
“If he denies it, the more I’m becoming doubtful, Ohno-san,” Sho says, then he remembers. “I’m sorry. I meant no offense.”  
  
“None taken,” Ohno says lightly, waving it off. “Jun denies things when he’s embarrassed. Don’t tell him I told you; he’ll send oranges again just to annoy me. I think I’ll have an overdose of vitamin C if I receive one more of those damn oranges.”  
  
Sho laughs, his mind conjuring an image of Ohno juggling Okinawan tangerines in his office. “I’ll keep it to myself, I promise.” His eyes fall on where Matsumoto is.  
  
Ohno pats his arm twice. “I have to go up onstage to read Nino’s index cards.” The casual admission makes Sho smile, and he inclines his head. “I’ll see you around, Sho-kun. Enjoy the night.”  
  
Sho watches as Ohno approaches the stage, and he finds a spot where he can see Ohno’s face and hear his speech clearly. He ends up getting a flute of champagne this time, his martini long consumed.  
  
Ohno stumbles over his words, breaking the serious mood of the hall, and it’s then that Sho sees Ninomiya beside him.  
  
“The hardest part in making cues for Oh-chan,” Ninomiya begins, “is having to put hiragana over the difficult kanjis. And still, he mispronounces.”  
  
“You seem fond of Ohno-san,” Sho notes, and Ninomiya throws a sideways glance in his direction.  
  
“Fond? He pays well,” Ninomiya says, grinning. “You’ve been on his payroll long enough. You will agree with me.”  
  
Sho finds himself nodding; the salary and the accompanying employee benefits are more than what Sho expected. “I do like my job.”  
  
“Of course you do,” Ninomiya says. Then he leans closer to Sho, face toward Sho’s ear. “The board’s on the lookout for you, just so you know. But the most terrifying member is at a conference in Hong Kong, so there’s that.”  
  
“Thanks for the heads up,” Sho says, just as Ohno concludes his speech. “Will I meet them tonight?”  
  
“If you come across them,” Ninomiya says. “So here’s a tip: don’t come near me or Oh-chan for the rest of the night because wherever we are, that’s where they’ll be.” Ninomiya gives him a knowing look. “I like the outfit. Didn’t think you had it in you.”  
  
“A lot of people seem to be underestimating me lately,” Sho says.  
  
Ninomiya laughs, shooting him a two-fingered salute. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”  
  
Sho watches him go, sipping the rest of his champagne. There’s a catering service on top of the open bar, and Sho only partakes so as not to be impolite. He heeds Ninomiya’s advice and decides to lie low. If a board member corners him, so be it. He’s armed himself with just the right amount of alcohol to loosen up a bit.  
  
He’s in the area of the open bar when a voice says “Try the white wine,” and Sho doesn’t have to look to see who it is.  
  
“Wine is something you share with someone,” Sho says, not turning his head despite Matsumoto taking the spot beside him.  
  
“You’ve had enough champagne,” Matsumoto tells him, gesturing to the bartender.  
  
“You keep track of what I drink?” Sho asks, finally facing the man. He’s as handsome as ever, sharp cheekbones and full lips and long lashes. The bow tie doesn’t help.  
  
“I see what you’re doing,” Matsumoto says, and the bartender returns to hand them two glasses of white wine. Sho accepts, finding no reason to refuse. “You made a good decision, listening to Nino.”  
  
“I’m not a wanted person, am I?” Sho asks.  
  
“Depends on who’s looking for you,” Matsumoto says. He’s facing the crowd while Sho faces the bar counter, and Sho’s view of him is his profile along with the pale column of his neck.  
  
He has beauty marks there too. Of course. Sho can’t believe he only remembers now.  
  
Matsumoto angles his head to the side, then he points with his chin. “See that guy in a velvet suit?”  
  
Sho looks over his shoulder, taking a few seconds to locate where Matsumoto’s pointing at, then he nods. “Yeah.”  
  
“That’s my partner,” Matsumoto says. “Ikuta Toma. The guy with zero originality. We almost wore matching suits.”  
  
Sho laughs, hiding it behind his wine glass. “It can be treated as a gesture of camaraderie.”  
  
“Or we’d look like gross, clingy old men,” Matsumoto says.  
  
That earns Sho’s laugh. “So who changed their outfit for tonight?”  
  
“He did,” Matsumoto says, holding his head high. “I threatened to cut him off the partnership if he didn’t.”  
  
The alcohol in Sho’s system seems to heighten his sensitivity to Matsumoto’s striking features, and he shakes his head. “That sounds too harsh.”  
  
“It’s the norm for someone like Toma,” Matsumoto says.  
  
Sho watches as his lips touch the wine glass, as the liquid tips inside his mouth. He feels like a creep for staring.  
  
He looks away, taking a huge gulp of his wine. It’s been so long, he’s almost forgotten. But now that he’s finally settled in his new work environment, he notices the simplest things: the lack of a gold band around Matsumoto’s ring finger, the absence of a companion for tonight.  
  
“Did you bring a date?” Matsumoto suddenly asks.  
  
The question makes Sho snort. He’s got no one. “No.”  
  
“Funny,” Matsumoto says, voice dropping in pitch. “With the way you look, anyone would think you’ve brought someone along.”  
  
“It’s not my party,” Sho says.  
  
“It’s no one’s party,” Matsumoto tells him, facing him. He’s finished his wine and is stroking the rim of his glass with a finger. “You don’t look like you believe a word I say.”  
  
Sho casts a pointed look at the wine glass. “You’ve been drinking.”  
  
Matsumoto meets his stare. “So are you.”  
  
If they aren’t in public, something would have happened. Sho knows it the moment it comes: like a swift arrow piercing the air, and he’s holding his breath like he’s been thrown underwater and the barometric pressure’s about to crush his lungs.  
  
He knows Matsumoto’s noticed it, too—his eyes have changed, and the way he’s looking at Sho might have been how he’s been looking at Sho for a while, only that Sho didn’t bother to notice.  
  
Until now.  
  
It’s Sho who looks away first, finishing the rest of his wine in one gulp and leaving the open bar without another word. He walks with no particular destination, just avoiding people and wanting air to recollect his thoughts, to compartmentalize a little.  
  
He’s out of the hall and in one of the back corridors the hotel staff use when he feels someone grip his arm and drag him with surprising strength. Any protests Sho might have thought of die in his mouth when he finds himself in a storage room, surrounded by catering supplies.  
  
The door is quickly shut, and the lighting here is poor, the flickering light bulb over their heads giving a rather eerie glow. Sho feels like it’s the perfect setting for a horror movie, except there’s a different reason for adrenaline spike in his system. His heart is in his throat.  
  
Matsumoto shoves him against the closed door, and he’s never been this close. Sho smells the perfume again, triggering a cascade of memories—the antihistamine, the tangerines, the library, the folder.  
  
“Matsumoto-sensei,” Sho whispers between them. The light bulb flickers. “How drunk are you?”  
  
The yellow lighting casts shadows over Matsumoto’s face, and Sho sees him pause.  
  
“I don’t need to be drunk for this,” Matsumoto says, and Sho feels one of his hands cup his nape.  
  
He’s so close. Sho will never forget the smell of his perfume after tonight. He closes his eyes, knows he’s trembling on the spot. He’s not drunk, just a little buzzed. But the proximity makes it appear like the ground is spinning and he’s soaring.  
  
“It’s my birthday,” Matsumoto whispers, breath mingling with Sho’s rushed ones. Sho’s eyes widen. “At least let me kiss someone I like.”  
  
“Happy birthday,” Sho says, meaning it. His mind has latched on to Matsumoto’s last words. “I—”  
  
He pauses, unsure of what to say. He’s run out of words, and the only things he hears are Matsumoto’s breaths and his own heartbeat, thundering against his ribcage.  
  
“Sho-san,” Matsumoto says.  
  
It’s the first time Sho hears his name from those lips. He’s thought about it, perhaps dreamt of it more than once, but he’s not dreaming now.  
  
“Sensei,” Sho whispers. The light overhead flickers once more.  
  
He lets go. “Jun.”  
  
It’s warm, the feeling of Jun’s mouth against his. He can feel Jun’s grip on him tightening, his other hand reaching up to hold Sho’s face better, and Sho tips his head for them to get the angle right, and it becomes warmer.  
  
He finds purchase on Jun’s jacket, fingers clinging to the lapels like they can keep him afloat. If he felt like he was flying earlier, he is sinking now, like the current’s too strong and he can do nothing against it.  
  
He lets his hands slide inside the jacket, down, down, until his palms lie flat on Jun’s lower back. Jun deepens the kiss by pressing closer, tongue swiping against Sho’s own and Sho opens up for him. He doesn’t know how long they do it, how often they break apart only to meet again in the middle, but when they stop and he licks his lips, he tastes Jun.  
  
He wonders how long it’ll last before Jun’s taste is completely gone.  
  
“Come with me,” Jun says.  
  
Sho should ask where, but all he sees are Jun’s full, swollen lips. That’s his doing. He feels feverish, pulse quickening and perhaps accelerating further.  
  
He says yes.  
  
\--

An hour later, Sho finds himself somewhere in Hayama, surrounded by the sound of waves crashing against the shore. It’s past midnight and the beach is deserted, but they drive up to an imposing, dark edifice and Sho’s glad he’s had a bit of alcohol for this.  
  
“You live here?” he asks when they climb down and Jun switches the car off.  
  
“During the weekends,” Jun says, gesturing for Sho to follow him.  
  
Sho does, and he tries not to gawk the moment he steps inside and Jun turns on all the lights. The space is massive, and everything about the interior boasts of contemporary design. There’s a series of elegant-looking couches that face the huge curtain wall made of toughened glass overlooking the sea. Looking out, Sho can see the moon and the twinkling stars, and if he listens hard enough, he’s certain he can still hear the waves.  
  
“This is a resthouse,” Sho says in awe, looking up. The ceiling is high but curved, and he frowns. “What’s the curved ceiling for?”  
  
“It’s a planetarium,” Jun says. He’s depositing his suit jacket in the nearest couch, and Sho stares at him in shock.  
  
“A what?” Perhaps he misheard.  
  
“Planetarium,” Jun says with a lopsided smile, and he stalks to where the light switch is. “Look.”  
  
He turns off the lights and blankets them in darkness, the only illumination provided by the moonlight. Then Sho’s eyes adjust, and he sees it: where the curved ceiling used to be now appears like an extension of the night sky, and it’s completely breathtaking.  
  
“Wow,” Sho says, laughing a bit. “That’s amazing.”  
  
He feels a hand enclose around his wrist and sees Jun holding on to him.  
  
A tug and Sho follows. They climb the stairs to the second floor, and Jun leads him to the bedroom without a word.  
  
When the door shuts behind Sho, he thinks of what to say. They left the party after a hasty goodbye to Ninomiya, though they took separate turns to do it. Jun didn’t leave without informing Ohno, and Sho had to wait for him in the parking lot for a few minutes.  
  
Those few minutes gave him time to think. This wasn’t his wisest decision as of late, but after months of work stress and a year since his last hookup, he figured he can make the most of it. This can easily be categorized as a one-night stand if things become too awkward between them, and Jun himself would probably refuse any errands from Ohno that involves Shinonome.  
  
Sho can deal with the consequences as long as this stays between them. And he thinks no one really saw them leave together, having taken the necessary precautions.  
  
In the end, the words die in his mouth. Jun’s in his space, fingers tracing his jawline and spreading warmth. It’s like they’re back in the storage room, away from prying eyes, only that there’s no flickering light bulb.  
  
“I’m going to kiss you,” Jun says, and Sho moistens his lips in response.  
  
“Don’t tell me,” is all he manages.  
  
The kiss this time is longer and more languid, with Jun cradling his face and Sho hooking his fingers on Jun’s belt loops to have him closer. The desperation from earlier seems to have ebbed—each brush of Jun’s mouth against his is designed to tease, done so softly that they leave Sho craving each time. It’s him who deepens it, hands climbing up to remove Jun’s bow tie.  
  
It takes him a few tries, but he manages to undo the clasp, pulling it free from Jun’s neck and discarding it somewhere at their feet. Jun backs him against the bed, then he’s pulling, tugging a little forcefully on Sho’s suit jacket until Sho maneuvers his shoulders to remove it.  
  
“Always wanted to do this,” Jun says when they pause to breathe, and Sho stops.  
  
Blinking, he asks, “Do what?”  
  
“This,” Jun says, then his hands make quick work on Sho’s bow tie, removing it hastily. He then unbuttons Sho’s dress shirt, and Sho finally regains the sense to mimic him, fingers fumbling a little with the button holes of Jun’s shirt.  
  
Sho, who’s accustomed to wearing suits at work, finds that disrobing is easier when he’s not impatient. When both their shirts are on the floor, Sho finally lets himself feel more by wrapping his arms around Jun’s nape and having him close.  
  
The sensation of kissing Jun is becoming familiar now, sending Sho to a heady haze. He gets pushed down the bed, Jun unbuckling his belt and tugging his slacks down, and the sudden rush of cold makes Sho shiver.  
  
Jun pulls back a little, as if he’s taking the time to admire whatever’s right before him.  
  
Sho hardly thinks he’s attractive at present; he still has the purple cummerbund around his waist.  
  
He attempts to remove it, but is halted by Jun’s whisper of “Keep it on.”  
  
Sho shoots him a questioning look, and Jun smiles.  
  
“I wanted to see you wearing just that when I first saw you tonight,” Jun admits, looming over him once more. “This can be my birthday present.”  
  
“I can give you the cummerbund if you like,” Sho says with a grin, and Jun kisses him.  
  
Jun seems to enjoy kissing a lot, one hand on Sho’s cheek while the other freely travels. He circles a nipple and Sho sighs, quickly muffled by Jun’s lips pressing insistently against his own. Jun’s hand descends further, slipping past the cummerbund and tickling Sho as he leaves fleeting touches over Sho’s pubis, close to where Sho wants to feel him.  
  
“Take off your pants,” Sho whispers, and Jun nips at his bottom lip as a response. “Jun.”  
  
Jun withdraws, acquiescing, and Sho settles on the bed more comfortably, back now flat against the pillows. The sheets smell newly laundered and feel fine as Sho runs a hand over them.  
  
“Should we remove the sheets?” he asks when Jun rejoins him on the bed, now gloriously naked that Sho doesn’t know where to look. There’s too much skin with the inviting curve of muscles indicating a toned body.  
  
His throat feels dry.  
  
“No,” is all Jun says, sounding impatient, then his hands are back.  
  
Jun slots his face against the junction formed by Sho’s neck and shoulder, mouth trailing kisses over Sho’s pulse. His hands trek southward until they run over the inside of Sho’s thighs, and Sho spreads his legs further so he can have Jun between them.  
  
He lies back and lets Jun do what he wants, shutting his eyes as Jun drops a kiss to his collarbone down to his sternum, then his stomach. The cummerbund feels ticklish now, edges brushing against Sho’s hypersensitized skin and making him squirm.  
  
The warmth of Jun’s mouth eventually reaches the spot where his hands were, and the puff of breath against Sho’s cock is the only warning Sho receives.  
  
How he went from attending a company foundation night to having the company’s legal advisor sucking his cock, Sho has no idea, but he’s not complaining. He gets his fingers tangled in Jun’s hair, ignoring how the styling gel clings to his skin and focusing instead on how good Jun’s mouth is.  
  
Jun works a slow rhythm, but with every slide, he’s got the entire length of Sho’s cock in his mouth. Each obscene sound makes Sho see white, blood igniting and searing his bones, making his toes curl. He whispers Jun’s name and that earns him a forceful suck, the sound echoing in the silence of the room followed by Sho’s startled gasp.  
  
When Jun breaks off, his hand replaces his mouth, stroking Sho lazily but firmly.  
  
“Good?” Jun asks.  
  
Sho can only nod, his mind a blur. It’s been too long since someone gave him head. His reactions surely give that away, but he can see no judgment in Jun.  
  
Jun uses both hands now, stroking him, driving him mad with each delicious slide of his slick palms over Sho’s length. Sho can sense the tendrils of orgasm building in between his legs and tries to stave it, back arching against the sheets.  
  
“I’ve always wanted to see you like this,” Jun is saying, hands going faster. He spits, using his saliva as lube, and Sho wills himself to keep his eyes open, fixed on Jun’s face. “On my bed, gasping while I touch you, while I suck you off. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been thinking about that?”  
  
Sho shakes his head but tries to answer anyway. “Since the sports day?”  
  
Jun gives a small smile, then he goes faster and Sho fails to suppress the moan that escapes from him.  
  
“Since we met,” Jun tells him, and it takes a beat for the words to sink in. When they do, Sho can’t look away. “Since you gave me that tablet for my hay fever.”  
  
Sho’s breath hitches; that’s even before everything that’s happened between them in Shinonome.  
  
“Go,” Jun coaxes softly, his touch relentless. “I want to see you.”  
  
Every nerve ending in Sho’s body seems to obey that command, synapses firing all at once. Sho’s vision whitens out as his lips lift off the mattress, body giving in after holding back for so long. He nearly sobs in relief, his orgasm hitting him in euphoric waves, unspooling the coiled tension in his body.  
  
He lies there panting, feeling like he just ran a mile. The mattress dips and he opens his eyes just as Jun bends down to kiss him softly, almost lazily. He’s so gentle with Sho that Sho is overcome with the urge to give back.  
  
“Do it,” he says, palm flat on Jun’s chest, pushing Jun back a little.  
  
Jun meets his eyes, and Sho says, “I want you to do it.”  
  
Don’t hesitate, Sho pleads with his eyes. He can never say these things. If this night is an isolated incident, he wants everything he can have while they’re in the moment.  
  
Jun seems to understand. He kisses Sho briefly and reaches for the nightstand. Sho’s hands roam, idly tracing patterns over Jun’s torso, hoping he’ll remember when the time comes.  
  
Something like this, so sudden and intense, it’s not meant to last.  
  
Sho doesn’t need it to. He only wants enough for tonight, enough for him to look back to and fondly recall.  
  
The slow touches return after Jun finds what he’s looking for, a slick finger slipping inside Sho and making Sho’s breath hitch. Jun’s thumb strokes his cheekbone affectionately, and Sho shuts his eyes, allowing himself to believe it.  
  
That Jun was telling the truth earlier, that he’s wanted this as much as Sho did.  
  
There’s no trace of Jun’s impatience from that moment in the storage room, his touch unhurried, almost too careful. He waits for Sho to relax fully without a word, and when Sho does, he slips another finger inside, the slow but steady stimulation making Sho want more.  
  
Sho can only take so much, and he lets out a breath. “Jun.”  
  
“I know,” Jun says.  
  
“Then what are you waiting for?” Sho asks, and he receives a light pinch to the crest of his hip.  
  
“Shh,” Jun says. “I’m taking my time.”  
  
Sho grunts, then he plants a foot on Jun’s chest and applies force, sending Jun back, leaving him kneeling between Sho’s legs. His fingers glisten in the dark and Sho pays them no mind, instead placing both hands on Jun’s broad shoulders and pushes, until Jun’s back hits the sheets.  
  
Sho moves to straddle him, fingers reaching blindly to their side for a condom, and when he finds it, he wastes no time and rolls it over Jun’s cock.  
  
Then he reaches for Jun’s still wet fingers and uses it for lube before positioning himself. He lowers his body slowly, one hand reaching under him to serve as a guide, and Jun clings to his hips the moment the tip grazes his hole.  
  
The stretch feels incredible when Sho finally has all of Jun in him, and he leans back, letting his body adjust. He keeps both hands on Jun’s shoulders as leverage and starts to move, eyes never straying from Jun’s face.  
  
“I’ve thought of this,” Sho admits once he’s fully adjusted. He speeds up, begins using his knees. “Thought of you fucking me.”  
  
Jun answers with a hitched groan, and Sho grinds down and increases his pace, Jun’s fingers tightening around his hips. He’d likely bruise, but he can worry about it in the morning.  
  
It’s Sho who initiates a kiss this time, slotting his mouth against Jun’s and tasting him, having all of him at once. It’s like a drug rush, coursing rapidly through his veins and taking over.  
  
Jun wraps both arms around his form as he kisses back, then they move together and Sho silences all of his noises by curling his tongue in Jun’s mouth. His sweat mingles with Jun’s and Sho finally feels Jun’s grip on him tighten.  
  
He bears down and hears Jun curse, and does it again. Jun opens his eyes, mouth parted, and Sho presses his forehead against Jun’s cheek. The noises they generate together are the kind that Sho doesn’t want his neighbors to hear, but Jun’s neighbors are too far to notice a thing.  
  
Right here, there’s no one but them.  
  
When Jun comes, there’s an accompanying whisper of Sho’s name followed by a shudder, Jun’s head thrown back in bliss. Sho watches him, transfixed by the sight. In the entire time he’s known Jun, he’s never seen him lose control.  
  
Sho runs his fingers over Jun’s trembling lips, utterly mesmerized. He’s tempted to kiss Jun again, but he waits until Jun’s haze seems to clear before he does.  
  
When they break apart, Jun smiles at him. He smells like sex and sweat, but so does the room.  
  
So does Sho.  
  
His heartbeat thumps against his ears, overloud. He wonders if Jun can hear it, or if it’s Jun’s heart that he’s hearing and not his.  
  
“Kouchou-sensei,” Jun says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Sho’s ear.  
  
Sho traces the marks around Jun’s mouth. One up, one below it, the other way down. They form a constellation of their own.  
  
“Happy birthday,” he says, and Jun smiles at him, “Sensei.”  
  
\--  
  
Sho wakes with the sun shining right on his face, and he blinks blearily at his surroundings as he sits up, rubbing his eyes.  
  
It takes a beat before he realizes where he is. The sheets feel foreign and expensive, and he doesn’t have windows this huge, nor a view overlooking the sea and the horizon.  
  
A shuffle startles him, and following its source reveals a back half obscured by the sheets. There’s a slight crease between Jun’s eyebrows as he dozes off, and Sho directs his gaze past his sleeping form to check the time.  
  
Sho looks around them and lets everything sink in: he’s spent the night in Jun’s home in Kanagawa, in a house that has a planetarium and apparently, also a private beach. Jun, who is Ohno’s trusted confidant and the company’s legal advisor.  
  
Despite the hours that passed, it’s still a bad decision. A lapse of judgment that Sho chooses not to linger on; it’s done.  
  
He leaves the bed and procures a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, making himself presentable. He remembers cleaning up before going to bed, with him getting a mini tour of Jun’s bathroom with two small jacuzzi tubs: one for a hot bath, the other for cold. He soaked in the hot tub and watched the moon rise above the clouds as Jun replaced the sheets.  
  
After, Sho can’t recall the last time he’s slept so soundly.  
  
Now, he looks at his reflection and notices a patch of wine red marking his neck, and he reaches up to touch it, unable to pinpoint when exactly did Jun leave it on him. But it’s Jun’s, and stroking the bruise makes Sho remember the feeling of Jun’s mouth on his skin, the smell of him all over the sheets.  
  
Despite knowing it would be for the better if this were an isolated incident, Sho can’t help wanting more.  
  
The sound of a vacuum cleaner turning on rouses him from his thoughts, and it’s coming from downstairs. Sho finishes up and grabs a bathrobe to wrap around himself, and checking on Jun reveals that the man is still in deep slumber, the sheets wrapped around him turning him to a human burrito.  
  
Sho carefully pads downstairs, taking a cautious peek. He finds a middle-aged woman vacuuming the living room, and before he can take his leave, she notices him.  
  
She turns off the vacuum and stares at him, and Sho feels stupid for hiding behind a wall so he reveals himself fully. From the looks of it, she’s a housekeeper, perhaps wondering what Sho’s doing in Jun’s home.  
  
Sho’s wondering about that, too.  
  
“Good morning,” she says in the end, bowing. “Did I wake you?”  
  
“No,” Sho says. He returns the greeting and inclines his head politely. She appears to be a few years older than him.  
  
She stares at him for a few moments, and it’s only then that Sho remembers that he’s sporting a hickey in a conspicuous spot on his neck. His hand flies to cover it, but it’s too late: she’s smiling.  
  
“Is Matsumoto-san awake?” she asks. “He didn’t leave a message so I don’t know what kind of breakfast he prefers today.”  
  
“He’s still sleeping,” Sho says, a little apologetic.  
  
“Very well,” she says, nodding to herself. “What would you like?” She pauses, and Sho finally realizes his mistake.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Sho says. “I’m Sakurai. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
  
“Sakurai-san,” she says. “Likewise. I’m Kudo, Matsumoto-san’s housekeeper. Does miso soup work for you?”  
  
Sho hasn’t really eaten anything aside from the small portions from last night’s party. He realizes how hungry he is.  
  
“That sounds lovely,” he says, and Kudo’s smile broadens.  
  
\--  
  
Kudo-san makes tamagoyaki, white rice, and miso soup for two, and so as not to get in her way, Sho takes the food upstairs and waits for Jun to wake.  
  
He’s setting up the bowls when he senses movement. When he turns, Jun is seated on the bed, leaning against the headboard. He has his glasses on, and he must’ve been watching Sho for a while.  
  
Sho stares. He can’t help it. In broad daylight, there’s so much skin, despite the half of Jun’s body disappearing under the sheets.  
  
“Kudo-san’s here?” Jun asks, voice a little hoarse from disuse.  
  
Sho manages a nod. “Yes. She made breakfast.”  
  
“For two,” Jun says. “You’ve met.”  
  
“Yes,” Sho affirms. He doesn’t know what to make of Jun’s tone.  
  
“Bring that over here,” Jun says. “That smells divine.”  
  
Sho obliges, handing the tray to Jun and climbing on the bed. Breakfast in bed is beyond Sho’s expectations; usually, his one-night stands end with his partner disappearing who knows where come morning.  
  
He watches Jun blink repeatedly at the food before him, and it’s then that Sho realizes that Jun is not a morning person. He’s horrible with mornings, mind still sleep-addled and hair askew.  
  
Instead of a turn-off, it only makes Sho want him more. He reaches for a pair of chopsticks and focuses on eating so he won’t give in to the temptation of doing something about his attraction. He’s already done so much the night before.  
  
He’s in the middle of sipping his miso when he senses Jun looking at him, and Sho lowers the bowl before throwing him a questioning look.  
  
“I like how you look,” Jun says seriously, openly. He’s staring at Sho’s neck.  
  
“You mean you like the mark you left,” Sho corrects.  
  
“I like it on you,” Jun says. He lowers his chopsticks and reaches out, fingers gliding over the bruised flesh. “If this doesn’t fade, someone might see it on Monday.”  
  
“I can always dab some powder on it in case it doesn’t disappear,” Sho says. It’s not the first time he’s had to hide a hickey. He turns to Jun, studying the look on his face. “You don’t want it to disappear.”  
  
“I like how it looks on you,” Jun says again, fingers applying a smidgen of pressure over the sore spot. He leans closer, and it’s clear what he wants, but Sho plants his hand on his chest as a buffer.  
  
“Breakfast first,” Sho says. He doesn’t like for his food to get cold, regardless of how attractive the person beside him is. “Then we can.”  
  
Jun inclines his head, eyes glinting in amusement. “You think Kudo-san will hear us?”  
  
The thought is horrifying for Sho. “I don’t think you pay her enough to have her hear such things.”  
  
That wins him one of Jun’s laughs, his first for today. “You might be right.” He picks up his chopsticks once more and pops a piece of tamagoyaki in his mouth.  
  
They finish the rest of their breakfast in silence, and Jun leaves the bed to deposit the tray and the empty bowls at the foot of the stairs.  
  
When he returns, Sho unconsciously licks his lips at the sight of him. He’s naked save for the glasses, and seeing his body now is different than bearing witness to it last night. He has a beauty mark right beside his left nipple. Sho’s never noticed that the night before.  
  
Jun climbs on the bed and sets both legs on Sho’s either sides, hands already cupping Sho’s nape and tilting his face up.  
  
“I have something to confess,” Jun says, and Sho waits. “My birthday was actually on the day before yesterday, not yesterday.”  
  
“Oh,” is all Sho says. “Any particular reason why you lied?”  
  
“I needed a reason to kiss you last night,” Jun says, thumb stroking his lips. “What time do you have to go?”  
  
It’s as if he doesn’t want Sho to leave at all.  
  
Sho thinks of his apartment and his pending paperwork, the ledgers he has to look over and review, the meetings he has to finalize.  
  
He wants to stay here in Hayama, in this house by the sea, for as long as he can.  
  
“Later,” is all he says. “Later.”  
  
Jun tastes like miso when they kiss, but Sho doesn’t mind. He’s already responding to Jun’s touch, still so receptive after the first time.  
  
For a while, he allows himself to forget about Tokyo and Shinonome.  
  
\--  
  
They spend a lot of time together after that.  
  
Sho first thought it’d end after Jun drives him home, but before he leaves the car, Jun holds his wrist like he did when he’d guided Sho upstairs, thumb stroking Sho’s pulse.  
  
An understanding falls between them in that moment, and Sho’s only momentarily surprised when the same Ferrari drives up Shinonome’s courtyard while Sho’s staying behind in the school, catching up on paperwork leftover from the previous week.  
  
There’s no one else around—the faculty’s gone home, even Aiba left ahead of him to catch a date. What surprises Sho isn’t the visit, but what Jun brings with him, and if they aren’t in the school premises, Sho would’ve kissed him.  
  
“Chinese works for you?” Jun asks, lifting bags of takeout, and Sho nods.  
  
“I’m starving,” he admits. His desk is a mess, a far cry from the last time Jun has seen it, but Jun doesn’t seem to mind. “How did you know?”  
  
“One of the feedbacks about you, Kouchou-sensei,” Jun begins as he opens a container of xiao long bao, “is that you stay late in the school premises to finish all the work for the day. I’ve read the forms your faculty has filled up, you know.”  
  
“Of course you did,” Sho says, grabbing chopsticks and swiping a piece of xiao long bao. It tastes heavenly, and he can’t hide his satisfaction. “This is really good.”  
  
“How late will you be staying this time?” Jun asks. He eats too, perching himself on Sho’s desk while shoving fried rice into his mouth. He looks like he’s had a stressful day as well, tie crooked.  
  
Sho’s only got a few reports to print and sign, then he’s done. “Just an hour, at most. Tough day?”  
  
“I had to take over a case for Toma because he’s yet to return from Kyoto, but I forgot how particular private clients can be.”  
  
Sho nods, then finds a bump of courage he has no idea what’s the source of. “Do you want to come over?” He reddens when Jun looks at him but hopes the dim lighting of his office makes it hard to see. “I don’t have a private beach or a planetarium, but…”  
  
He trails off, seeing Jun’s smile.  
  
“I’d love to.”  
  
\--  
  
It goes on and on until it becomes a normal occurrence for Sho.  
  
He gets used to waking up in the mornings to the sight of Jun stealing all the blankets, to his grunt of annoyance when Sho tries to wake him up, to the grogginess that requires at least two cups of coffee to subside. He gets accustomed to Jun’s kisses—mostly done at their homes, sometimes in the car, sometimes in a private booth in a bar that Jun has reserved beforehand. Jun’s touch becomes familiar that the texture of his skin is like an extension of Sho’s, and he delights in discovering what makes Jun arch against him, nails embedded in his arms.  
  
Sometimes they don’t do anything. When work eats them both up and nothing seems to make sense anymore, they share a drink, a few stories, and head to either Sho’s place or Jun’s, and make the unspoken but joint decision to just sleep it off.  
  
There are movies sometimes. Jun adores subtitled films, and they watch those until one of them falls asleep (usually Sho). Sometimes Jun cooks for him, and Sho learns that if given the chance, Jun would love to get some private lessons from a seasoned chef for no other reason than he just wants to cook for his friends.  
  
Sometimes they don’t meet at all when Jun’s in one of his night outs with his friends and Sho has to visit his family or have meals with his sister and her husband. But in those instances, one of them always texts, just to check, and they’ll quickly find the rhythm they built once they see each other again.  
  
It’s comfortable and it’s good because it makes Sho feel good. It improves his job performance and his tolerance for inefficiencies and shortcomings. It also feels secretive and somewhat illicit, but there’s a certain kind of thrill in those things. Sho once thought he’d shaken off the need to satisfy something impulsive the moment he’d dyed his hair black after years of going blond, but each moment he spends with Jun is like a proof telling him that he hasn’t completely done away with that rebellious streak.  
  
And, Sho admits, he likes it. He likes it when Jun kisses him because there’s no hesitation to it, no fumbling or second-guessing. He likes it when Jun brings him bags of takeout after a long day or drive him up to his fancy house in Hayama to relax and destress the week away. He likes the feeling of pressing up against Jun’s back, his mouth hovering on Jun’s ear, the corresponding shudder Jun is unable to suppress when he licks the helix.  
  
“What do you need?” is what Sho asks sometimes, and he likes the variety of responses Jun has for it. Sometimes it’s wine or three bottles of it, shared over pasta that Jun learned how to cook thanks to YouTube. Sometimes Jun gets physical, hands claiming territory over planes of Sho’s body that he’s already mapped multiple times in the past. Then his legs will draw Sho closer and Sho gives it to him, and they don’t talk much.  
  
Sometimes it’s Jun who asks what Sho needs, and Sho allows himself to be selfish, to take what Jun’s offering and give back just as much. When words don’t suffice, he lets his touch speak for him.  
  
It’s been going on for a while when Jun asks something else entirely, and Sho’s running his fingers over the knobs formed by Jun’s spine when it’s uttered in the darkness.  
  
“What really happened to you in Takasaki?”  
  
Sho doesn’t pause in his casual exploration of Jun’s back as the memories resurface. “I stood up for a student.”  
  
“Stood up?”  
  
Sho hums. “She was a victim of bullying. Every day. She was in my advisory class and I never knew a thing. When I found out, I stood up for her.”  
  
“But you left,” Jun says.  
  
“They made me leave,” he admits. “One of the instigators to the bullying is a daughter of a public official. I worked in a public school, and the local government has a huge influence on those, as you know. The administrators sided with them because the school needed the money. They told me to retract my student’s complaint and to settle it discreetly. But I didn’t listen; my student was suffering every day and I only knew recently.” He shuts his eyes. “In the end, no one got suspended. My student, the victim, moved to another prefecture and transferred schools. I was about to be promoted as a head teacher. I lost all that.” He laughs a little, having no idea where the urge originated from. “I was asked to resign to save face because they claimed I was starting unnecessary trouble and it was bad for the school’s image. So I left.”  
  
“Is Shinonome any better?” Jun asks after a moment. “You left because your former school prioritized money over its students.”  
  
“I don’t know if it’s better,” Sho admits. “But I like to believe I’m changing things, little by little. When I don’t think about what Shinonome means to Ohno-san or to the company, I can breathe. I can tell myself it’s not Takasaki, that it’s nothing like Takasaki.” His touch moves to the dip between Jun’s shoulder blades and lingers there. “Maybe that’s why.”  
  
Jun frowns; even in the dark Sho can’t mistake that. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Why I’m drawn to you,” he says quietly, as if someone will hear them. The night is quiet, and the only thing Sho hears is the constant hum of the airconditioning accompanied by the intermittent crashes of the waves against the shore. Here, so far from Tokyo—from Gunma—Sho feels safe. “I wanted justice then. Maybe that’s why.”  
  
Jun rolls to his back then, looking affronted. “That can’t be just why.”  
  
It breaks the tension and Sho laughs. “Did I just hurt your precious ego? You’re good-looking, I’ll give you that, but it’s not always about that.”  
  
“Shut up,” Jun says, and Sho laughs when he gets tackled on the bed.  
  
When he recovers, Jun’s staring at him.  
  
“I’m sorry about Takasaki,” Jun says seriously.  
  
Sho shakes his head. “Nothing to be sorry for. Besides, you didn’t know.”  
  
“But I’m glad,” Jun says. “I’m glad you left and went to Tokyo.”  
  
Because we wouldn’t have met, Jun doesn’t say, but he doesn’t have to. Sho hears it perfectly, and the realization resonates within him.  
  
Jun kisses him, but his mind drifts. Suddenly, this all became so much more.  
  
\--  
  
Aiba waits until everyone has left the conference room when he points it out. He does it without talking, just giving Sho this knowing look like Sho’s supposed to pick up the hints, and it takes minutes of staring back and forth before Aiba sighs.  
  
“You wear accessories now, Sho-chan?” Aiba asks. They’re in school and he’s Kouchou-sensei here and Aiba’s Aiba-sensei, but Aiba drops the formalities only on two instances: outside the school premises and when it’s urgent.  
  
This is the latter.  
  
Sho’s got one of Jun’s silver bangles around his wrist, a lightweight cuff that he barely notices he has on. It’s Jun’s—well, _originally_ Jun’s until Sho tried it on that one time and Jun liked it so much on him that he refused to have it back.  
  
“I like it on you,” Jun said to cut off his protests. “I like you in my stuff.”  
  
“You would,” was all Sho managed to say at the time. Jun can be very persuasive when he puts his mind to it, and he’s exercised that talent in front of Sho many times. Sho’s stubborn, but he has a limit. The limit is usually Jun; he’s unable to say no to Jun once Jun asks.  
  
It’s his weakness.  
  
“Just trying it on,” Sho says. It’s Monday, and he’s spent the weekend in Hayama and completely forgot to take it off. He wonders if the entire faculty noticed. He knows they’ve been gossiping on why he’s been single for so long.  
  
Aiba gives him _the_ look, which tells Sho he’s in deep shit. Aiba may easily get distracted and may have a short attention span from time to time, but once he notices something, it’s usually a thing of relevance.  
  
“Really?” Aiba asks, and the tone implies that he’s verifying if Sho thought his pathetic excuse would work. “Sho-chan, the students are better than you when it comes to lying.”  
  
Jun always told him he can’t lie, at least not convincingly. He thought Jun just said that because he’s a lawyer and he loves to pick on Sho.  
  
“I know whose bracelet that is,” Aiba says, and Sho’s glad there’s a desk in front of him because he has to rest his weight against it lest he loses his balance. “I—”  
  
Sho holds up a finger, which halts Aiba’s statement. “We’re not having this conversation right now, Aiba-chan,” he says, breaking formality. “Not here.”  
  
Aiba opens his mouth but closes it again, and Sho evens out his breathing until he gradually feels his heart rate revert back to normal. He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes away the sweat that trickled down his brow.  
  
“Okay,” Aiba says, relenting. “Okay.”  
  
The conversation commences in a private booth in a local bar that Aiba knows, and Sho imbibes himself with enough alcohol before he starts answering questions.  
  
“So,” Aiba says, smiling at him. Sho didn’t bother to remove the bracelet for the day; it’ll just get people talking. “How long has it been going on?”  
  
“Long enough,” Sho says, downing his scotch. It burns but he needs it. “Do you remember that time we went shopping?”  
  
“When we bought matching underwear?” Aiba asks.  
  
Sho shakes his head. “Before that.”  
  
Aiba looks funny when he tries to recall something, head cocked to the side and a crease between his eyebrows, mouth parted in confusion. But when it hits him, Sho sees it. His eyes widen, then he smiles and he gasps.  
  
“When we bought that suit for the company’s fancy party?” Aiba asks, and Sho nods. “Oh wow. That was...that was quite some time ago.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Sho says, shrugging. “You asked.”  
  
“I did,” Aiba says, and Sho watches him take a huge gulp of his brandy. “Who else knows?”  
  
“No one,” Sho says. Then he backtracks a bit. “My sister, because I tell her everything. Ikuta-san, Jun’s partner in the firm—”  
  
“Jun?”  
  
Fuck. Sho shuts his eyes. “I can’t call him Matsumoto-sensei all the time,” he says defensively. “It’s literally five syllables longer, okay? Give me a break.”  
  
“So his partner in the firm knows?” Aiba says, and he’s grinning.  
  
Ikuta knows because he caught them one time when it was Sho who opened the door for him when he’d come over to personally deliver one of Jun’s bonsais. Jun has three of the damn things already, and he purchased one more but apparently, their secretary in the firm mistakenly put the office address.  
  
Jun had held Ikuta responsible for reasons unknown (maybe because he’s Jun), and to make amends, Ikuta personally delivered the tree.  
  
Which he almost dropped when he saw Sho, but he recovered quickly, and just sighed and said something like “I really should’ve known.”  
  
“Yes,” Sho says, to answer Aiba’s question. He doesn’t elaborate further.  
  
“I know Toma-chan,” Aiba says, and he simply nods as Sho stares at him. “Yeah. Matsujun invited him to come along when we went drinking. I’ve seen him so drunk that he danced on top of a table.”  
  
Sho doesn’t want to imagine Ikuta doing that. Despite Jun’s claims that he partnered with an idiot, he says it so fondly that Sho’s certain he’s just exaggerating.  
  
“No one in the school knows except for me?” Aiba asks after a moment.  
  
“No,” Sho affirms. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”  
  
“No one in the company knows?” Aiba asks quietly.  
  
To Sho’s knowledge, no one does. They were careful not to meet anywhere near the company, and when Sho receives a summon to Ohno’s office, he tells Jun so their meeting with the man won’t coincide.  
  
Not that Sho can’t trust himself to act civil when necessary, but they’re just being cautious.  
  
“No,” Sho replies.  
  
Aiba takes a deep breath, looking at him seriously. “He’s good to you?”  
  
Sho finds himself giving a small smile. Of course, Aiba would ask. He’s Aiba. “He is.”  
  
“Okay,” Aiba says, not too different from earlier. “As long as he is, then it’s good.”  
  
“Aiba-chan,” is all Sho says, but Aiba seems to understand.  
  
“I won’t tell anyone,” Aiba says. But the way he’s looking at Sho changes. “Just...well. You’re the principal of Shinonome, and he’s the company’s legal advisor and—” Aiba lets out a breath, “—something like that can’t be hidden forever. I know you know this. You’re very smart. I’m not saying it’s wrong, but...just because it’s working fine now doesn’t mean it’s going to be fine all the time.”  
  
Sho knows that. He’s just setting aside all the thinking whenever he’s with Jun because Jun emotionally grounds him, gives him something to focus on aside from always being perfect in Shinonome. When he’s at work, he has to set an example all the time. His actions have to be flawless and reasonable.  
  
Jun doesn’t want him perfect; he wants him the way he is. And that’s comforting and reassuring in ways Sho can’t truly describe.  
  
But he knows it can’t last. He’s known the first time Jun asked him to come with him. And now it’s been going on for so long that he knows he can’t abruptly put a stop it. For Sho’s part, he knows it’s gone past the point where he can shrug it off as a casual hookup.  
  
Aiba means no harm, and maybe Sho does need someone who’ll say it to him right in the face, someone who doesn’t shy away. Aiba’s that person, and Sho hates how conflicted he feels.  
  
“It won’t work out, right?” Sho asks without really wanting to know the answer. He simply nods. “It won’t. I knew that. I honestly don’t see a way for it to work out given our jobs, our positions.”  
  
“So what do you plan to do?” Aiba asks.  
  
Sho twirls the glass of scotch in his hand. “What I always do.”  
  
\--  
  
He lets it happen naturally. He waits for the time that the excitement of being with Jun starts to ebb away, dulled and overshadowed by his growing fear of discovery. When it comes, he waits for Jun to notice the change and braces himself for the onslaught of questions.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Jun asks. They’re in the garden of his Hayama house, feeding kois by the man-made bridge, and Sho sets down the container of fish food.  
  
“Has it ever crossed your mind,” Sho begins carefully, “to properly identify what it is we’re doing?”  
  
Jun draws back a bit, confusion marring his features. He’s got such an expressive face, now so openly hurt at Sho’s words. “I thought we both know what this is.”  
  
“No,” Sho tells him, pressing on, “you know what this is. I don’t.”  
  
They’re not together. Jun hasn’t met his family and neither has he met Jun’s, and he doesn’t think it’ll happen any time in the future. They meet up in places, hang out, have sex, but that’s it. Sometimes there’s a little more to that, like Jun showing up in Shinonome or cooking for him at his apartment. But they haven’t properly labeled it, and Sho’s tired of overthinking, of Aiba’s words replaying in his head over and over.  
  
“Are you trying to tell me we’re not—” Jun cuts himself and scoffs, casting a pointed look at Sho’s wrist where Sho’s wearing his bracelet. “Are you being deliberately obtuse right now?”  
  
“Obtuse,” Sho repeats. Sometimes he forgets that Jun is a lawyer and has a trove of words not commonly used in day-to-day conversations. “I was just asking.”  
  
“About things you know the answer to,” Jun says. “What’s this? What brought this on?”  
  
Aiba knows, Sho can easily say. And he told me things.  
  
But the look on Jun’s face halts his words. Jun’s so transparent, so honest. When he dons his suit and heads to work, he’s all smiles and endless charisma, but there’s something else behind that appearance, the Jun Sho only sees on late nights in his office with greasy takeout between them.  
  
He stops because he doesn’t want to hurt Jun further. He can’t stand seeing Jun like that.  
  
“Nothing,” he says in the end. “Nothing. I was just thinking. I’m sorry.” He places a hand on Jun’s arm, waits for Jun to look at him once more. “I’m sorry.”  
  
That night, the way they collide is rougher and more desperate, like he’s bound to vanish any moment and Jun doesn’t want to let him go.  
  
“Sho,” Jun is saying as they move. The rhythm is familiar, steadily building like the interlude to a practiced choreography. It’s like they’re on the verge of reaching a crescendo far sooner than they usually do. “Sho, Sho.”  
  
Sho holds on to him, clutching at his shoulders and grinds down, the friction too good and making him want, body curving and demanding more. He scratches, leaving his own marks on Jun’s pale skin, littering the flesh within his reach.  
  
This is how it all started, Sho tells himself: with sex. He was lonely, and the moment someone showed interest in him, he jumped at the opportunity and bedded them, regardless of who they were. Now it’s escalated to something beyond sex, with them both wanting something else from one another.  
  
Sho wonders who will give in first. It’s bound to happen soon, with the way things are.  
  
“Jun,” he husks when it becomes too much, and just before he completely tips over the edge, it dawns on him how it’ll all end.  
  
After all, since when did Sho have for himself what he truly wanted?  
  
\--  
  
It’s Jun who starts wanting more. It begins with casual questions of “Do you have plans for Christmas? What about the new year?” with Jun sounding expectant, and Sho tells him that yes, he has. He’ll be meeting his family then.  
  
“Oh,” is all Jun says. “Right. Have fun.” But he sounds a little disappointed, and Sho can easily pick up cues like this after months of association.  
  
To Sho, that means it’s Jun who started unraveling the messy tangle of this unnamed thing that they have. It’s Jun who paved the way to their eventual parting, and all Sho can do is to prepare himself for it. It’s inevitable.  
  
Christmas comes, and Sho waits until the holiday itself is almost over and his entire family has gone to bed ahead of him before he opts to call Jun.  
  
Jun picks up, and Sho doesn’t wait for him to finish his hello before he says, “Merry Christmas.”  
  
“Merry Christmas,” Jun greets back. “Hang on.”  
  
Sho doesn’t get the chance to ask what for, but then Jun switches to FaceTime, and Sho frowns at what he sees behind Jun. Jun’s wrapped in a scarf, wearing one of his worn out hats, and he’s somewhere crowded.  
  
At such a late hour.  
  
“Where are you?” Sho asks.  
  
“DisneySea,” Jun says with a grin that reminds Sho of a child who got his wish from Santa Claus. “Did you know they let you ride first if you’re alone?”  
  
There’s a pang in Sho’s chest when he hears that, and he tries his best to ignore it. Instead, he listens to Jun’s story animatedly, how he had to raise his hand when the park operators ask who’s alone and he’d advance further in line.  
  
Jun is the type who gets lonely pretty easily, and Sho can feel the guilt gnawing at him the longer he listens to Jun talk. He didn’t have to be alone. No one deserves to be alone on Christmas.  
  
If only Sho isn’t in Tateyama with his family, he’d take a cab and head to DisneySea. But he’s where he is, and he doesn’t know why he thought Jun would invite anyone else after finding out Sho couldn’t make it.  
  
“Sho-san?” Jun asks, waving at him. “Did I lose you there? Is the reception bad?”  
  
“Let’s go somewhere,” Sho says without thinking too much about it. He doesn’t know anymore what he wants. He’s looking at Jun right now, but he’s overcome with the desire to touch him, to hold him closer. “When I come back.”  
  
Jun’s large eyes behind his equally large frames blink, almost owlishly. “What? Where?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Sho says. “My birthday’s in a month.” He sees Jun’s surprise at that. “Just...let’s go somewhere. Anywhere.”  
  
They can be in Jun’s house in Hayama on Sho’s birthday and Sho won’t really mind.  
  
“Okay,” Jun says after a few beats. “Okay.”  
  
“I’ll get you something from here,” Sho says. “What else can you get for me aside from a face mask featuring a Disney character?”  
  
That gets Jun laughing, and Sho wishes he’s seeing it up close instead of via his phone screen. “There’s Star Wars stuff. I can get you a lightsaber. One that really lights up and makes funny clashing sounds.”  
  
“Matsumoto Vader?” he jokes. “Seriously though, anything will do.”  
  
“I’ll see you when you’re back here,” Jun says. “Merry Christmas.”  
  
Sho returns the greeting, and before he can overthink it, presses the phone against his mouth. He’s suddenly embarrassed, and when he draws back, there’s an indecipherable look on Jun’s features.  
  
Jun mimics him, and Sho momentarily loses sight of him when he leans closer to kiss the air. It makes Sho’s stomach feel funny, like he’s lost half of his age and is back to that teenager wearing colored contacts and receiving his first kiss.  
  
They say their goodbyes and Sho’s phone screen turns dark that he sees his own reflection on it.  
  
“Fuck,” he says to no one in particular. “Fuck it.”  
  
He’s screwed.  
  
\--

Sho keeps telling himself that it’ll end on its own, except it doesn’t. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, exactly. But the new year comes and the weeks pass like they normally do without anything major happening save for parents rushing to his office to complain about their children’s academic performances. Lately, Ohno no longer summons him to his office. They Skype instead of Sho heading personally to meet Ohno, which is more convenient since Ohno receives real-time updates regarding the school.  
  
Sho’s completely adjusted to his job now that it seems the days pass quicker than they did months ago.  
  
His birthday eventually comes, and he’s surprised when Jun takes him to the Hayama Port after promising they’ll go somewhere.  
  
Jun seems to know the people working there, exchanging a few greetings and nods of acknowledgement. They don’t ask anything other than “Just you two?” and Jun answers yes.  
  
Sho follows him, duffel bag in tow. He thought he’d be spending the weekend in Hayama like the usual: a subtitled movie while enjoying the late dinner Jun made, and lots of sex for the rest of the weekend.  
  
Where are they going?  
  
Following Jun to who knows where eventually leads Sho to a yacht named Stay Gold, and he remains standing there while Jun greets the captain, a man he introduces to Sho as Muro-san.  
  
“Hello,” Sho says in greeting.  
  
“What are you standing there for?” Muro asks. “Come on board! Jun’s told me this is all for you.”  
  
“For me?” Sho asks, but he does climb aboard, hands curled around the railing.  
  
“It’s his birthday, Muro-kun,” Jun says with a grin.  
  
“Oh,” Muro says, then he smiles again. “Happy birthday, Sakurai-san! I hope you enjoy the view despite it being nighttime.”  
  
Sho looks around. He’s boarded a yacht—a private yacht—and he has no idea where they’re off to. “Wait, what?”  
  
“Why don’t we let Muro-kun prepare while I give you a tour?” Jun says, leaving Sho no choice but to follow him. Jun directs him to the cabin below deck and tells him to deposit his stuff here, which he does.  
  
It’s a spacious room with a king size bed, connected to a bathroom with a shower and a toilet. It’s the kind of luxury that Sho’s only seen in Western films, and he faces Jun with an expression that’s partly annoyed and partly amazed.  
  
“Really?” he says disbelievingly. “A yacht trip?”  
  
“Technically it’s my yacht,” Jun says. He’s seated on the bed, hands stroking the sheets. “Well, my firm’s yacht. Toma and I only use it sporadically, when we have to entertain high-profile clients.”  
  
“I’m not a client,” Sho says.  
  
“No,” Jun agrees. “You’re much more than that. Happy birthday.”  
  
“Thanks,” Sho says. “Where are we going?”  
  
“Out there,” Jun says, “where it’s quiet and private and no one can disturb us. If you’re worried about food, this yacht is stocked. I’ve been stocking it since last week; we have enough for the weekend.”  
  
Sho’s not worried about the food. He doesn’t know how to describe what he feels exactly. He’s touched because Jun went into lengths to prepare something like this for him, but also surprised that Jun would go this far. No one’s ever done something like this for him before. The closest to the best surprise that he got was when his sister gathered his friends without his knowledge and threw a party for him at a reserved restaurant.  
  
Not like this. Not this intimate, this personal.  
  
“Are you freaking out?” Jun asks, rousing him from his thoughts.  
  
“No,” Sho says, except he totally is. He knows he can’t hide it because Jun knows where to look.  
  
“Hey,” Jun says softly, “hey. Look at me.”  
  
Sho does.  
  
“Come here,” Jun says, and Sho obliges, feet taking him to where Jun is. Jun takes his hand and strokes his knuckles with his thumb. “Stop thinking. Just stop.”  
  
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Sho says. “You think all the time.”  
  
“I know,” Jun says. “But right now, I’ve left all of that in Tokyo. Tonight, it’s just us.”  
  
“And Muro-san,” Sho supplies.  
  
Jun laughs a little. “And Muro-kun. But he’ll stay out of our way because he’s a shy guy with people he doesn’t know. We probably have to convince him to eat with us. Anyway, just stop thinking. Don’t think this weekend.”  
  
“We both can’t do that,” Sho says. One of them has to be realistic.  
  
“We can try,” Jun says, smiling up at him. He looks so hopeful and earnest, and Sho feels something tug at his heart at the sight of him. What most people don’t know about Jun is that he can be really sweet. “It’s just like spending a weekend together.”  
  
“Except we’re in a luxury yacht and will go far from civilization for a couple of days.” Sho sighs, relenting with a nod. “Okay. I’ll try, okay? But my phone’s been ringing all this time, I should really go answer a couple of calls before I lose the reception.”  
  
“Go,” Jun says.  
  
Sho secludes himself in the bathroom as he responds to one birthday greeting after another, throwing in a warning that if he doesn’t reply to any email for the next few days, it’s no cause for worry. He’s just in someplace where the phone reception is bad.  
  
He looks up and finds his reflection in the mirror staring right back at him.  
  
Don’t think, Jun said.  
  
“Happy birthday,” Sho tells himself.  
  
\--  
  
Muro takes them far out to sea while Jun prepares a late dinner using whatever ingredients he bought and packed, and Sho entertains himself by chatting with Muro, who only acquired his boating license two years ago.  
  
“Usually, Jun brings company owners here,” Muro explains. “He once brought this guy, Ohno.” At the mention of a familiar name, Sho perks up. “I guess the trip inspired him because Jun told me he has his own boating license now as well.”  
  
“That’s amazing,” Sho says. “I’ve heard from his secretary that he loves fishing. With a boating license, he probably goes whenever he feels like it.”  
  
Sho is a little envious of having that much freedom when it comes to your days off. His problem is that he schedules every minute of every hour. He likes giving himself something to do all the time, but he always pays the price of deep exhaustion once he gets home.  
  
They hear a crash from the kitchen below deck followed by a noise of frustration, and Muro laughs.  
  
“That’s nothing to worry about,” Muro says. “He hates the yacht kitchen because he claims it’s too small. I always tell him he’s just gotten so bulky that he barely fits.”  
  
Sho can attest to Jun’s bulk, especially around the shoulders, but he’s afraid of the questions that will bring. So he just nods and asks Muro about what he sees in the control room to pass the time.  
  
Eventually, they leave the yacht running on its own and head out on deck, where the night breeze is cool against the skin. Muro tells him funny stories about Jun, like that time Jun got so drunk he wrote on the wall of the yacht’s cabin, or that time Jun wanted to know if the yacht could take them all the way to the Philippine waters despite knowing his own country’s laws.  
  
“Stop badmouthing me,” Jun complains as he brings plates of food on deck. They all smell divine and Sho’s mouth is watering. He and Muro help Jun set the makeshift dining table. “That wasn’t me who wanted to sail all the way to Manila. That was Toma.”  
  
“No, it was you,” Muro says, making Sho laugh harder. “I don’t have a selective memory like you do, Jun. That was totally you.”  
  
“No, I don’t remember,” Jun says. “So it didn’t happen.”  
  
“Your way of excluding things in a narrative is really something,” Sho says after saying his graces. What Jun prepared is a medium-rare steak with a side dish of bolognese, red wine, and garlic bread strips for an appetizer.  
  
“Shut up and eat,” Jun says, though it lacks bite.  
  
Sho does, laughing in between slices of steak as Jun and Muro bicker—Jun claiming Muro’s spreading lies about him and may be charged with libel, Muro saying he has receipts that he can reproduce any time.  
  
It’s comfortable and pleasurable, and the farther they are from Tokyo, the freer Sho feels. Out here, there are no monster parents demanding his time, no faculty squabbles he has to settle, no letters to draft and revise if the first one gets rejected. Out here, it’s just the sea, the night sky, and their tiny boat.  
  
“Muro-kun,” Jun says after a moment. “I think we’re far enough.”  
  
“Right,” Muro says, responding to Sho’s questioning look with a smile. He leaves them to head to the stern, disappearing from view.  
  
Sho looks at Jun. “What are you up to?”  
  
“Nothing,” Jun says, but Sho’s certain he’s lying. “Finish your pasta.”  
  
“Jun, I—” he tries, but then the lights in the entire yacht go out and Sho nearly jumps from his seat. “Jun, what’s happening?”  
  
“Look up,” Jun says, and Sho does.  
  
What he sees takes his breath away: it’s a clear, unobstructed view of the night sky. From here, he can see a portion of the Milky Way, the stars bright and twinkling. He hears a hiss and sees a jet of white smoke shooting up from the back of the yacht, and his surroundings get bathed in hues of red, green, and yellow as fireworks color the sky.  
  
He can’t help smiling and laughing, nothing but joy coursing through him. It goes on only for a couple of seconds but it’s enough. Sho is touched, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do the moment the lights turn back on and he can see Jun’s face again.  
  
They’re still in the dark when he says sheepishly, “You didn’t have to.”  
  
“I had to,” Jun says from across him. Somehow, it reminds Sho of that time Jun sat in his office and demanded to see his plans for the then-future. “It’s for you. Of course I had to.”  
  
It’s all Sho can take. He gets up from his seat and goes to where Jun is, hand cupping Jun’s nape and tugging him forward.  
  
He says thank you with a kiss that Jun eagerly responds to, fingers tangling in Sho’s hair. He tastes like the garlic bread he made, but Sho doesn’t care. He’s grateful and elated, and it’s all because of Jun.  
  
Jun’s so good to him that it almost hurts, and Sho tries not to think about how he’ll deal with the fallout once it’s over.  
  
They only break apart when the lights turn back on, but Sho steals one more peck on Jun’s full lips before he completely lets go.  
  
“Thank you,” he says once he’s back on his side of the table, just as Muro rejoins them. “And to you as well, Muro-san.”  
  
Muro waves it off. “It’s all Jun. You know how he is with the surprises. Always has to involve something over the top because he won’t settle for anything less.”  
  
Jun rolls his eyes and takes another jab at Muro, ending in another round of light bickering, but Sho doesn’t mind. He only has eyes for Jun now, and he can only nod.  
  
“Yeah,” he says, smiling when Jun makes a face at Muro. “I know how he is now.”  
  
\--  
  
With the way that surprise for Sho went, Sho thinks it’s inevitable that he and Jun are unable to keep their hands off one another once they have the door to the cabin locked.  
  
Jun has his head tilted back, the pale column of his neck exposed for Sho to lick and suck, and Sho doesn’t hold himself back. Jun smells like the basil he put in his bolognese, and while his kisses do taste a little like garlic, Sho doesn’t want him anywhere else.  
  
Sho becomes bolder, pushing Jun back towards the bed, but not before divesting Jun of his floral-patterned shirt. With Jun’s torso exposed, Sho ducks to taste, to mark.  
  
The corresponding hiss that Jun makes prompts Sho to do it again.  
  
“You like that,” Sho notes, licking the spot he recently nipped.  
  
“Like what?” Jun asks, a little breathless.  
  
“This,” Sho says, closing his teeth around a nipple and tugging, making it pebble and harden, and Jun arches in surprise, a gasp falling freely from his lips.  
  
Jun has his head facing the side, breaths rushed. He’s beginning to flush, cheeks tinged in pink when he looks at Sho once more.  
  
“I know what you like,” Sho tells him. Jun has sensitive nipples and loves it when they’re teased. He’s into his body being bitten and marked, and now that he’s lying here, so receptive and willing, Sho wants to give him everything.  
  
“Do you?” Jun asks as he lifts his hips to remove his shorts. He kicks them off and repositions himself on the middle of the bed, arms folded behind his head. The curve of his toned biceps has Sho licking his lips. “Why are you being so slow?”  
  
“It’s my birthday,” Sho says, suddenly reminded of that time Jun used the same excuse. “Unlike you, it’s actually my birthday today so it’s my pace we’re following.”  
  
“You’re too slow, grandpa,” Jun teases, and Sho flings the shirt he recently removed at his face.  
  
Jun emerges from behind it, laughing. “You’re so old. Are you sure you’re up for this? We can postpone.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Sho says with a laugh, picking up a pillow and flinging it once more to Jun’s face. “You’re so rude.”  
  
Sho rejoins Jun on the bed once he’s naked, aligning himself with Jun’s body and kissing him tenderly. The way Jun responds to him makes him heady, everything else forgotten in favor of hearing Jun respond to his touch.  
  
They kiss for the most part, with Jun clawing at his shoulders and biceps once he starts nipping his way down, marking a collarbone and bruising the sensitive flesh. He makes his way downward, nips on the crest of Jun’s hip, delighting in the sigh that he hears as a response. He treks lower, further down, taking Jun into his mouth.  
  
Jun jerks, letting out a surprised moan, and Sho lets him go, the tip resting on his bottom lip.  
  
“If Muro-san hears us, it’ll scar him for life,” Sho says, swiping his tongue over the slit.  
  
Jun hisses. “He can jump overboard; I don’t care.” He’s got the back of his hand resting over his eyes and he spreads his legs further. “Do that again.”  
  
“You’re really rude,” Sho says, laughing a little but complying, licking the head of Jun’s cock repeatedly, relishing in the noises that get caught in the back of Jun’s throat. He flattens his tongue along the shaft, licking long lines that send Jun’s hips bucking, and Sho plants his hands on the bony prominences to keep him still.  
  
He begins hollowing his cheeks, his pace steady, and he feels Jun entangle his fingers in his hair and pull, the slight pain somewhat pleasurable. It spurs Sho on, bobbing his head more quickly despite his jaw beginning to ache, and he goes as far as he can until he can feel his eyes water.  
  
He pulls back with a loud, obscene pop, hand pumping Jun hard, using his saliva for lube.  
  
“Good?” he asks, a little out of breath.  
  
“I always think of the things you can do with that mouth,” Jun says, half of his face still obscured by his hand. “Often when you’re not around.”  
  
“When you’re at work?” Sho asks. “When you’re in a meeting with your other clients? When you’re in a meeting with Ohno-san?” He squeezes, and Jun’s mouth parts so beautifully, and Sho wants to see him do that again.  
  
“Yes,” Jun husks, hips meeting his fist eagerly. “I think of you sucking me off, maybe in your office at the school when you’re buried in paperwork. Instead of a smoke break, you can get down on your knees and—” he pauses, breath hitching as Sho starts fondling his balls, “—use your mouth for something other than talking.”  
  
“Kinky,” Sho says, but now he’s thinking of it too: Jun driving up to Shinonome, bringing him takeout, him thanking Jun by sucking his cock with Jun perched on his desk. Nobody would know, and just the thought of it is enough for the arousal to spike in Sho. “Fuck.”  
  
“You want it,” Jun says, a little breathless but now smiling. “You’d do it.”  
  
“I would,” Sho admits. “Had you asked, I would.”  
  
“Then I’d reciprocate and get you off by, I don’t know, maybe I could get down on my knees too, give you something else to remember aside from paperwork whenever you use that desk,” Jun says. “I should’ve done that.”  
  
Sho doesn’t reply, instead brings his mouth back. He goes fast, unrelenting, drawing back to moisten his lips then returning, and when he hears Jun’s voice reach an octave, he doesn’t stop.  
  
“Sho,” Jun says, ending in a moan.  
  
Sho pulls back and just uses his hands, and Jun’s thighs tense.  
  
“Go,” he says. He wants to see Jun covered in come, his pale stomach a mess. “Come for me.”  
  
He removes Jun’s hand from his face and Jun’s eyes snap open, pupils blown when he zeroes in on Sho, and Sho squeezes. Jun twitches in his grip, then he trembles, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he climaxes. Warmth coats Sho’s fingers and Jun’s skin, and Sho thinks he’ll never get tired of seeing Jun like this: so out of it but satisfied, euphoria radiating off him in infectious waves.  
  
When Jun opens his eyes, long eyelashes fluttering, Sho finally lets him go to kiss each of his eyelids. He plants soft kisses all over Jun’s still-flushed face, saving the last one on his full lips.  
  
“Fuck me,” Jun whispers, kissing him lightly. “You’re clean, right?”  
  
“Yes,” Sho says, then his brain rewires itself. “Jun, I—”  
  
“I’m clean,” Jun says, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Do it.”  
  
“Are you sure?” Sho asks. Maybe Jun’s just so out of it. They’ve never done it like this before. Not that Sho doesn’t want to, but this is a huge leap. He looks at Jun and realizes that he does want it, that he’s been thinking about it in all the other times they’ve done this. But he has to know. “Are you absolutely sure?”  
  
Jun smiles and goes for another kiss, then another. “Yes. You keep asking, old man. The answer’s the same. Yes. Now get moving.”  
  
“At least help me out,” Sho complains, but only half-heartedly. He’s so hard, he wants to give Jun what he wants.  
  
He fumbles with the items on the nightstand and sends a few bottles crashing to the floor, causing Jun to laugh.  
  
“So clumsy,” Jun says. “Now I’m really worried. Do you know what to do? Shall I guide you?”  
  
“Shut up,” Sho says, uncapping the lube and squeezing some on his fingers. When he presses a slick finger against Jun, he feels Jun relax. “I know what to do, all right?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t know, grandpa,” Jun is saying. “I’m just concerned. Maybe you’re starting to have memory lapses here and there.”  
  
Sho pushes in and gets rewarded with a sigh. “Stop calling me grandpa. You’re only a year younger than I am; if I’m a grandpa at this age then you are, too.”  
  
“A year?” Jun asks, breath hitching. “Isn’t it ten? Didn’t you just turn forty-seven?”  
  
“How dare you,” Sho says, curling his finger in retaliation. Jun lets out a groan, and Sho adds another slick finger inside. “No forty-seven-year-old looks this good.”  
  
“This old, you mean,” Jun teases, and Sho begins scissoring, causing Jun to bite back a groan. “There.”  
  
“Hmm?” Sho curls his fingers once more, sending Jun arching. “What was that?”  
  
“Fuck,” Jun says, clenching around him. “There. Right there. More.”  
  
Hearing him beg is making Sho crave, and he strokes himself as he obliges, fucking Jun with more, wishing it’s his cock inside instead. But he can wait; Jun’s always worth it. He waits until Jun begins clawing at the sheets, his toes curling.  
  
“Come on,” Jun says, sounding impatient. “Come on, come on.”  
  
Sho hastily pulls his fingers out, slicking himself sloppily before lining up. Jun keeps his legs spread, using his heels to lift his hips. Their eyes meet, and Jun smiles.  
  
“Old man,” Jun says, and he never finishes the rest of his teasing barb because Sho pushes in, the both of them groaning at how good it feels. Jun’s tight and warm and he feels absolutely incredible, and Sho has to bury his face against Jun’s neck to control himself.  
  
“Jun,” he whispers, mouthing at Jun’s neck. “I—”  
  
“It’s okay,” Jun says, hands worming around his back and holding him close, their chests nearly touching. “Move. Fuck me.”  
  
Sho begins moving in slow pushes, but once Jun starts meeting him halfway, he picks up the pace that the mattress creaks. He doesn’t hear the crash of the waves against the yacht’s hull, his ears so attuned to the noises he and Jun are generating together. He slots his mouth against Jun’s, taking all his noises for himself.  
  
They move in unison as Jun meets his thrusts halfway, taking it, bearing down with each slide and sending the inside of Sho’s thighs tingling. When Jun brackets his hips with his thick thighs, Sho ceases holding back, taking what he needs.  
  
“You do realize,” Jun huffs, “that this is literally called rocking the boat?”  
  
“Shut up,” Sho grunts, punctuating it with a thrust that sends Jun groaning. “It’s not funny.”  
  
Jun, however, laughs breathlessly. “It is. We’re rocking the boat.” He laughs again, as if he just said the funniest pun in the world.  
  
“I hate you,” Sho complains, but he hides his smile against Jun’s neck, tasting sweat as he pushes harder, rendering Jun speechless. Fire coils low in his belly, and he takes his next breath against Jun’s pulse. “Jun.”  
  
“Come in me,” Jun whispers, nails embedded on his sides. They sting, but Sho hardly cares. “I want it. I want it in me.”  
  
Sho’s breath hitches as his hips snap, and he gives one final push before his vision whites out, mind drifting to blissful oblivion. He comes in quick bursts, emptying himself inside Jun who utters no complaint, instead hums like he’s satisfied and wants nothing else at present.  
  
When Sho comes to, he’s draped over Jun, their bodies completely drenched in sweat. Jun is tracing idle patterns on his back, his touch fleeting and a little ticklish, but Sho doesn’t mind. He tilts his head to kiss the angle of Jun’s jaw, feeling the roughness of a forming stubble.  
  
Jun reaches over the nightstand and Sho watches with one eye open as he presses his electronic cigarette against his mouth, letting out a puff after a few seconds. He then offers it to Sho, who wraps his lips around the tip and inhales.  
  
The smoke he blows off somewhat distorts the marks on Jun’s face.  
  
“Happy birthday,” Jun says, smiling gently, handsomely. The sight of it tugs at Sho’s heart.  
  
He’s still buried in Jun, the two of them tangled in one another.  
  
Sho doesn’t want to move. Not yet.  
  
“Thank you,” he says sincerely, and the next time Jun lets out another puff of smoke, Sho kisses him, the taste of smoke mixing in their mouths.  
  
\--  
  
The following morning, they dock to a nearby group of small isles and go swimming by lunchtime. They find a bit of privacy since it’s still winter and the water’s a little cold, but Jun dares him to go skinny dipping with him and Sho isn’t one to back down from a challenge.  
  
No matter how stupid it is.  
  
“You idiot,” he tells Jun, his teeth chattering once he’s fully submerged in the water. “It’s so cold!”  
  
“Nonsense,” Jun says, combing his wet mane back, leaving glistening droplets all over his face and neck. He’s a living temptation for Sho. “It’s cold because you’re not swimming. Move your limbs, old man. Or do you already have gout forming in your joints?”  
  
“I’ll show you who has gout,” Sho says, splashing him, and he laughs when Jun glares.  
  
Never one to lose, Jun splashes back, then because he’s truly an underhanded rascal, he reaches down and tries to tickle Sho’s sides. Sho protests, trying to push him off, and he can hear Jun’s spirited laughter.  
  
Sho manages to hold Jun’s wrists in a tight grip, rendering Jun immobile, and he plasters on a smug expression. “Had enough?”  
  
Jun rolls his eyes. “I didn’t lose. You cheated.”  
  
“Wow,” Sho says, amused at how childish Jun can be sometimes. “Trust a lawyer to twist reality to something that favors his cause.”  
  
“Stop badmouthing my job,” Jun says, and he’s able to pull one wrist free and drag Sho underwater. Sho resists, the cold surprising him, but he stops pushing Jun off when he feels Jun cease with his playful attempts, hands just settling on his waist.  
  
They surface together and Sho places both hands on Jun’s chest. He’s so broad that he can completely enclose Sho in his arms like this, and Sho wouldn’t really mind it. He feels safe here, like nothing can come after him. It’s always like this with Jun. Wherever they are, as long as Jun is with him, he feels unstoppable.  
  
It’s simultaneously thrilling and frightening to be by his side.  
  
Jun leans forward, capturing his mouth in a kiss, and Sho eagerly, immediately responds. It’s hard not to yield to Jun, who knows every bit of him by touch, has it cataloged and memorized. By now, Sho knows Jun like the back of his own hand, like Jun’s an extension of him and having him nowhere near would make it seem like he’s lacking something.  
  
He breaks the kiss and stares at Jun’s face, at his honest, open expression and his too brown eyes.  
  
“I want to continue kissing you,” Sho says, and Jun licks his lips, “but I’m freezing.”  
  
Jun laughs in his space, going for one last peck before he nods. “All right. Let’s go back to the boat.”  
  
“If I die of hypothermia, I’m blaming you,” Sho says just before they make their way back, and Jun laughs.  
  
“I’ll get you all warmed up, don’t worry,” he says, and Sho rolls his eyes.  
  
“Has anyone ever commented on your sex drive before?” he asks curiously, once they’re back on the yacht’s deck and have at least three towels wrapped around their forms.  
  
Jun is drying his hair and the way he emerges from under it is so sexy that Sho’s mouth hangs open a little. “I’ve been told by a palm reader that it’s unmatched.”  
  
That gets Sho laughing, his shoulders shaking. “That’s not even exaggerated!”  
  
Jun balls the towel and flings it at Sho, who dodges it just in time. “Keep laughing and I’m not feeding you.”  
  
Sho abruptly reels in his chuckles. “I’m very sorry,” he says seriously. “Please feed me.”  
  
He’s able to make Jun laugh, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “Help me with the vegetables. You can at least chop vegetables, right?”  
  
If there’s anything Sho doesn’t have faith in, it’s his presence in a kitchen. “I think so?”  
  
Jun chuckles, tilting his head in a gesture for Sho to follow him. “You’re useless. Come on. Let’s see what you can do.”  
  
\--  
  
They spend the rest of the weekend stargazing and having whatever Jun makes for their meals. Most of the weekend also revolved around sex, something Sho doesn’t complain about. If anything, he’s glad to have gotten laid so much that he can almost say he’s had his fill of Jun by the time they’re heading back to Hayama Port.  
  
Almost.  
  
They thank Muro and Sho lets Jun drive him home, the two of them neither ready to let the other go. It’s Monday again tomorrow, and Sho will have to wait until Friday to see Jun again, considering all the work they both put off just to have the weekend to themselves.  
  
It’s selfish, but Sho doesn’t want to return to reality. But he has no choice, and he can see the unwillingness also present in Jun by the time they reach his apartment.  
  
“I’d invite you to come up,” he offers sincerely, “but we both know if you do, you’re going to stay the night, and you might be late to work tomorrow.”  
  
“I’m not that irresponsible,” Jun protests, but he’s smiling.  
  
“Yes you are,” Sho tells him. He unbuckles his seatbelt and leans in to plant a kiss to Jun’s cheek.  
  
Jun turns his face and Sho kisses him fully on the mouth, prolonging it so they have something to remember.  
  
“I’ll call you,” Jun promises, finally unlocking the doors. “Good night.”  
  
“Good night,” Sho says, opening the doors and climbing off the fancy car. “I had fun. I’ll see you.”  
  
Jun nods, and Sho shuts the door and walks to his apartment.  
  
He doesn’t know that’ll be the last time he gets to see Jun.  
  
\--  
  
It’s the middle of the week when Sho gets an office summon, delivered straight to his email by Ninomiya. The suddenness of it startles him, but he brushes it off, thinking it’s about the request for funding so they can add kendo to the school’s extracurricular activities. He heads to the company office the following day, but is surprised by the sight of Ninomiya awaiting him by the elevator doors the moment they open to the penthouse.  
  
Ninomiya’s tie today is Mickey Mouse. Sho only stares at it for a moment before he meets Ninomiya’s eyes.  
  
“I’ll take you to Ohno-san,” Ninomiya says.  
  
“I know the way,” Sho says. “If there are other things you need to take care of—”  
  
“I’ll take you to Ohno-san,” Ninomiya says again, tone insistent and firm that Sho can only nod and follow after he spins on his heel and begins walking.  
  
Somehow, the trek there seems longer and each step seems heavier. Sho clutches his briefcase tightly, dread creeping up on him. He thought he was summoned to talk about the recent drafts he’d submitted via email, days before his birthday. But Ninomiya’s tone earlier hinted at something, and Sho’s having the same feelings he’d had before.  
  
In Takasaki.  
  
The door swings open and Ninomiya lets him in before he announces Sho’s presence. Ohno is standing behind his desk, frowning at an iPad, and when he lifts his head, there’s none of the usual friendly demeanor in his form.  
  
In his heart, Sho begs for it to not be true. For his gut feeling to be wrong, to be so far off he can laugh at the anxiety building up in him when he looks back to this day. But the moment he sits across Ohno’s desk after Ohno gestures for him to do so, he knows.  
  
Ninomiya is yet to leave the room, standing somewhere behind Sho.  
  
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says, and somehow, he sounds nothing like the usual Ohno. He’s serious, and Sho braces himself for the next words. “I called you here for two things. Which one would you like to hear first?”  
  
“The one concerning the school,” Sho answers immediately, his heart sinking.  
  
Ohno looks at him. “They both concern the school.”  
  
Sho is afraid to meet Ohno’s eyes; he knows the man will see through him and confirm it for himself. Jun always told him he sucked at lying, and now he’s paying the price. “The one about the letters,” he says finally. “Please.”  
  
“The letters are approved,” Ohno says, handing him a manila envelope. He accepts it gratefully, mouthing a thank you. “You can clarify the school’s funding with the accounting office on your way out.” Ohno rounds his desk and perches himself on the edge of it, right in front of Sho. “Now that we have those out of the way, shall I get straight to the point?”  
  
Sho tries to even out his breathing, shutting his eyes. “With Ninomiya-san present?”  
  
“Nino has to be here,” Ohno says simply, and Sho doesn’t argue any further.  
  
He nods, meeting Ohno’s scrutinizing gaze and weathering it. “Very well. What is it, Ohno-san?”  
  
“I’ll only ask once,” Ohno says, expressionless. “Are you fucking my lawyer?”  
  
All the air leaves Sho’s lungs and he finds it difficult to breathe, chest constricting. It’s out. He doesn’t know how, but it’s out. He can’t deny it because Ohno looks like he knows what’s going on, and he doesn’t want to. He’ll do many things, but he’s not going to throw Jun under the bus.  
  
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Ohno says, crossing his arms over his chest. “How long?”  
  
Sho takes a moment to answer, hoping he won’t stutter. “The foundation night.”  
  
Ohno hums and nods to himself. “If you’re wondering who found out, I asked Nino to investigate. You see, some things coincided too often to be considered as a pure coincidence. Most recently the last weekend.”  
  
Sho can’t look away from Ohno and he simply resolves to hold his tongue.  
  
“I couldn’t contact Jun, and Toma told me he took the firm’s yacht somewhere,” Ohno explains. “I had Nino do a bit of digging, and as it turned out, you turned thirty-seven just last Friday. Of course, that wasn’t enough to put things together, so I had Nino dig further. Shinonome’s CCTV footage has shown me five months’ worth of clips of Jun’s Ferrari driving up to the premises during after school hours. All coinciding with the dates you managed to send the drafts of your letter of requests to Nino’s email.”  
  
Sho closes his eyes, guilt eating him. It’s happening all over again. This time, he’s the one in the wrong. He knew it was wrong. But he left it all up to chance, taking bigger risks each time they weren’t caught.  
  
And now they are.  
  
“I’ve known Jun for a long time,” Ohno says. “When he was just starting, I gave him the capital to have his own firm. I became his first client and started recommending him to all I know. Majority of his clientele is because of me.” Ohno peers at him. “And because I know Jun that well, I know the type he goes for.”  
  
“What’s going to happen, Ohno-san?” Sho asks when he regains his voice. He feels nothing, like he’s an empty shell of who he is. Once he leaves this office, he knows that’s when it’ll all sink in.  
  
“This is where it becomes difficult,” Ohno says. “I don’t know exactly what step to take. Technically, Jun is the company’s legal advisor and is not an employee of the company. You, however, are an employee of this company, albeit indirectly. Nino suggested I should punish someone because a line’s been crossed. He’s not wrong about that.”  
  
“No,” Sho agrees. He’s very much aware. “He isn’t.”  
  
“Are you offering yourself?” Ohno asks.  
  
Sho has both hands curled into fists on top of his knees. He looks at Ohno before lowering his head. “I’ll accept any punishment, Ohno-san. If you need me to file for resignation, you will have the letter this afternoon.” He sounds monotonous, almost rehearsed. It’s just like Takasaki. “I’m very sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”  
  
“I’ll decide if I’ll fire you or I’ll put you on probation,” Ohno says. “But just in case, I want you to draft that letter.”  
  
“I will,” Sho promises, keeping his head low. He can’t think. He feels nauseous, his vision spinning. “Will there be anything else?”  
  
Ohno is silent for a few moments. “Nino,” he says calmly, “leave us.”  
  
Sho doesn’t turn his head, but he does hear footsteps fading followed by the door closing.  
  
“I’ll only ask because I need to reflect on what to do later,” Ohno says once they’re alone. “Look at me, Sho-kun.”  
  
Sho does.  
  
“Who initiated it?”  
  
Jun’s name is at the tip of Sho’s tongue, but he shakes his head. “I don’t understand the question.”  
  
“Was it you? Or was it Jun?” Ohno asks, still as calm as before. “If it was Jun, tell me now. You don’t have to write that letter if it was him. You’ll stay on as Shinonome’s principal and keep your job. Now tell me who started it.”  
  
Sho thinks of Aiba, Kanjiya, Kazama, Kojima, and the other teachers in the school. He thinks of Ichimura who confiscates library cards when books aren’t turned in on time. He thinks of the security personnel whose smiles he returns each time he clocks in.  
  
Then he thinks of Jun, of the Chinese takeouts rich in MSG and the spicy Thai food he keeps ordering despite being weak against them. He thinks of Jun’s coriander-flavored kisses, done to spite him because Jun knows how much he loathes coriander.  
  
“I did,” Sho finds himself saying. “It was me. I started it.”  
  
Ohno studies him, gaze penetrating, and Sho tries to hold it.  
  
Then Ohno nods slowly. “This afternoon then. I want that letter forwarded to Nino’s email before three in the afternoon.”  
  
“It will be done,” Sho promises, voice devoid of emotion.  
  
“You can go,” Ohno says, and how Sho finds the strength to stand on his feet, he doesn’t know.  
  
But he leaves, knowing he’ll never stand in that office again.  
  
\--  
  
To Sho, it’s as if he’s moving without purpose. Every action is robotic, rehearsed. He types his resignation letter without feeling any sort of attachment, and the only person he talks to about it is Aiba who exhibits more emotion that he does.  
  
“So you’re fired?” Aiba asks, looking like he’s ready to protest.  
  
“I don’t know,” Sho says honestly. “I’ve been told Ohno-san will decide later.”  
  
“But you turned in a resignation letter,” Aiba says.  
  
“Just in case,” Sho says, smiling a little. “It’s okay, Aiba-chan. It’s my fault. I should’ve known better.”  
  
“Does Matsujun know?” Aiba asks after a few beats.  
  
The thought of Jun makes his chest tighten. He shakes his head. “I...I don’t know how to tell him.”  
  
“Sho-chan,” Aiba says, and he rounds Sho’s desk to put an arm around Sho’s form. “He has to know. If you’re leaving, he has to know.”  
  
“He’ll blame himself,” Sho says, certain of it. “He’ll probably do something to not make me leave, and I can’t let him do that. He’s the company’s legal advisor. A lot of people depend on him. Of the two of us, I’m the one who can be easily replaced.” He looks at Aiba. “Promise me you’re never going to tell him.”  
  
Aiba looks like he’d rather do anything other than what Sho’s asking for. “Must you always be like this, Sho-chan? Always ready to take the blame?”  
  
Somehow, Sho finds it in him to smile. “I’ve been Shinonome’s principal for a while. I know how to take responsibility.” He clasps Aiba’s shoulder and squeezes. “This is also my responsibility. Let me handle it.”  
  
Aiba relents, though he doesn’t look like he wishes to. “All right, Sho-chan. All right. But just so it’s out there, I want you to know I never judged you for it.”  
  
Sho frowns, directing a questioning look at Aiba. “What?”  
  
“Right now, you’re probably being judged by those who know in the company,” Aiba says. “But I want you to know that when I found out, I never judged you. I always thought anyone’s free to fall in love with whomever they want, as long as they both have no commitments.”  
  
Sho wills himself not to tear up, trying to keep his emotions at bay. “Isn’t it unfortunate,” he says, laughing a little though he has no idea where he finds the strength to do so, “that it’s with someone I’m not supposed to feel this way for?”  
  
He knows they can’t meet again. Later, he has to accept that. And he has to tell Jun.  
  
“I often don’t know what to say when it comes to these things,” Aiba admits. “So I’ll just do what feels right.”  
  
Sho feels Aiba’s arms slipping around his shoulders, holding him tight, and he finds himself leaning to the comfort, utterly grateful for it.  
  
If there’s one thing he’ll miss in Shinonome, it’s Aiba Masaki.  
  
\--  
  
He calls Jun when the sun has set and he’s all alone in the office. He’s read Ninomiya’s reply at least fifty times and has memorized the entirety of it, telling him that he’ll receive another email confirming the termination of his employment by next week.  
  
Jun picks up after two rings, his voice cheery. He’s also in somewhere noisy, perhaps a restaurant with one of his high-profile clients.  
  
“What’s up?” Jun asks brightly, energetically. He’s always so vibrant in the evenings.  
  
Sho tries to picture him and his expensive suit, his cologne that stays on for the entire day and leaves a musk that Sho’s been unable to resist from day one. There’s probably hints of smoke on him, too.  
  
Sho will never smell that again. He’ll never see the fancy suits again, or the fading gold of Jun’s badge that’s pinned to the lapel of his suit jacket.  
  
“Is it all right for you to talk?” Sho asks after a moment. This will also be the last time he’ll get to hear Jun’s voice. He wishes he made the most out of that weekend, just so he’ll remember more.  
  
“Yeah,” Jun says, still oblivious to the conflict in Sho. Sho almost wants to back out, to tell him that things are fine and he’ll see him on Friday. But he can’t.  
  
“I have something to say,” Sho begins carefully, and he senses when he earns Jun’s full attention. “It’s important.”  
  
“All right,” Jun says. “Hang on.”  
  
Sho does, and he waits until all the background noise from Jun’s side disappears. Jun seems to have located a private area when he speaks again.  
  
“What’s going on?”  
  
Sho feels like he’d choke on what he’s about to say. He’s hurting, but he can’t give that away. He knows he has to be firm, to be decisive in order to protect Jun.  
  
“I’ve been thinking,” he says, and Jun laughs in the other line.  
  
“That’s not a very good sign, Sho-san. You worry too much. What is it about this time?”  
  
Sho wonders if he’ll ever see or hear Jun laugh again. “About us. About you, me, and what we’re doing.” He takes a deep breath. “And I’ve decided. We can’t keep doing this.” He hears Jun pause, and he barrels through the rest of what he has to say, ignoring the crushing, gnawing ache in his chest. He feels so hollow. “It’s wrong. You and I both know it’s wrong. So we can’t do what we’ve been doing for a while. It has to stop.”  
  
“Are you breaking up with me?” Jun asks, his tone indecipherable.  
  
What Sho’s about to say breaks his heart, but Jun needs to hear it. If he says it, Jun will get angry, and that’s better than Jun knowing the truth. That way, Jun stays on and keeps his job, keeps Ohno and Associates under his firm. That way, his friendship with Ohno isn’t ruined by some momentary lapse in judgment.  
  
“Were we even together in the first place?” Sho asks. “Nothing was concrete. For my part, I left it all up to chance. I don’t know if that’s called breaking up with you, but I want you to know I’m ending it. We’re both adults. We can’t keep doing something as risky as this. You’re a risk, and right now, something I can’t leave up to chance. Not anymore.”  
  
Hate me, Sho begs silently. Curse me, call me names. Hate me so I can do what I’m supposed to do.  
  
For a while, the other line is silent.  
  
Then: “Why are you lying?” Jun asks.  
  
Sho stills. He doesn’t know how to respond; he wasn’t expecting Jun to know.  
  
“I’m not,” Sho says after a pregnant pause.  
  
“You are,” Jun tells him. “I know when you are. So why? What’s really going on?”  
  
Sho wants to tell him. But he can’t. “What’s really going on is that I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you anymore. And that’s because I don’t want to. I have other priorities now. I can’t be distracted.” The words just come, and he doesn’t know if he’s making sense. “You’re a distraction. A very good one at that. But that’s all you are to me.”  
  
He hears Jun huff, and he wants to take it all back. But there’s no other way. Sho’s seen how it ends from the moment he gave in. There’s no way this would’ve worked, and it was his fault for making it go on for so long that he ended up falling in love despite knowing better.  
  
And now it’s hurting them both, but he has to do this.  
  
“I see,” Jun says finally, voice flat. “None of it was serious?”  
  
“None,” Sho says, thinking of all the times he’s been to Hayama, out to sea. He thinks of the stars that night and the fireworks that colored the sky. “I was just fooling around.”  
  
He thinks of Jun, of his kisses, his now-familiar touch that Sho will miss and never feel again.  
  
“Fooling around,” Jun repeats. “Okay.”  
  
“Okay,” Sho says, feeling like he’s splitting himself in half. He’s so torn. He wants to tell Jun that the past few months meant everything to him, that they were all precious memories. He wants Jun to know that he’s loved him from before, but there’s no way he can say that.  
  
“Thank you for your honesty, Kouchou-sensei,” Jun says, and Sho shuts his eyes. “I wish you told me all these things sooner; maybe I wouldn’t have bothered or wasted my time.”  
  
I’m sorry, Sho wants to say. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.  
  
“But don’t worry,” Jun continues, “I won’t make the same mistake again. Goodbye.”  
  
He cuts the line without waiting for Sho to respond, and Sho tosses the phone on his desk and buries his face in his hands.  
  
It’s done.  
  
\--  
  
The letter confirming the termination of his employment that Sho’s expecting doesn’t come.  
  
He waits and waits until the following week but it doesn’t, and when his impatience gets ahead of him, he sends Ninomiya an email. He receives no response, instead Ninomiya sends him the budget proposal he sent weeks ago, now with some annotations.  
  
Sho doesn’t know what to make of it.  
  
The rest of the week passes, and it’s a Friday evening when a Lexus drives up Shinonome’s courtyard just as Sho is leaving the premises. He halts in his steps when the door opens to reveal Ohno, who scoots to the other side and tells him to hop in.  
  
Sho’s hesitant, peering inside. “What’s going on?”  
  
Ohno’s face is hard to see, obscured completely by shadows. “Have you had dinner?”  
  
Sho hasn’t, and he’s pretty hungry. “No.”  
  
“Hop in,” Ohno says again. “We’re getting dinner.”  
  
Ohno has his driver take them to a sushi restaurant with a private room, and it’s so casual and friendly that Sho grows wary. He voices out his concern once the sushi platters are on the table and the attendants already left.  
  
“I’m fired,” he says, deciding there’s no better way to phrase it.  
  
Ohno has a piece of maguro sushi in his mouth. He speaks without bothering to swallow his food. “Says who?”  
  
“Isn’t that what this is?” Sho asks. He’s starving, but he’s yet to partake. “A dinner to tell me that you’re firing me?”  
  
“No one’s firing you,” Ohno says calmly. “Did Nino send an email?”  
  
Sho’s eyes narrow. “No, he didn’t.”  
  
“He didn’t,” Ohno repeats. “Eat up. I can’t finish all of these by myself.”  
  
Sho begins eating, but he can hardly enjoy the meal when his stomach is in knots. He pops a piece of sushi in his mouth. It tastes heavenly, and the way Ohno looks at him tells him Ohno’s been watching out for his reaction.  
  
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” he admits.  
  
“I know,” Ohno says. “That’s why I’m here to explain. Are you in a hurry?”  
  
“I want to know if I have to start job hunting,” Sho says.  
  
Ohno directs an amused smile at him. “You have started job hunting. I’ve seen your online resumé. Why do you have it up when you still have a job?”  
  
“I was under the impression I am to lose said job within this week.”  
  
“And now the week’s over and you still have a job,” Ohno says. “Take it down. I’m not firing you. The board’s not firing you either. You’re not going anywhere.”  
  
Sho is more confused than ever. “Then I’m on probation?”  
  
“For the next month,” Ohno says, stealing a piece of shrimp from Sho’s side of the platter. “It’s the lightest of disciplinary actions for something the board is not supposed to know. You’ve survived a visit before; you can survive another again.”  
  
“Wait,” Sho asks, frowning. “The board doesn’t know?”  
  
“Only Nino and I know,” Ohno says, “about you and Jun. The official story that I gave the board is that you went over the intended budget.”  
  
Sho blinks. Then it hits him. “The file Ninomiya-san sent to me. The annotations.”  
  
“Nino had to make a few edits for it to be believable,” Ohno explains. “Once money became the reason, the board stops asking. It’s easier to explain than the truth, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
Sho doesn’t reply.  
  
“So the board is visiting Shinonome for the next three weeks. A few employees of the company will shadow your performance as the school principal, but it’s nothing major,” Ohno says. “Unless you do something that’s worth writing an incident report over, that is.”  
  
“Ohno-san,” Sho says, having had enough of how Ohno is being purposefully vague. “What’s really happening? Why am I not fired? I turned in a resignation letter. I’m resigning. I’m supposed to leave.”  
  
“I never accepted your resignation,” Ohno tells him. “You sent an email?”  
  
“I did,” Sho insists.  
  
“Oh,” Ohno says, shrugging. “Well, Nino received no such email. There’s no resignation letter that exists. You can keep your job.” Ohno’s eyes narrow at him. “You don’t seem convinced or happy.”  
  
“Something doesn’t add up,” Sho says, deep in thought. He looks at Ohno and studies the man, his unreadable demeanor. He keeps looking, then he’s suddenly hit by the thought. “Did something happen?”  
  
“With what?” Ohno asks lightly. “With whom?”  
  
“With Jun,” Sho says, then he catches himself. “With Matsumoto-sensei. What’s really going on here?”  
  
Ohno scratches the tip of his nose before he scrunches it, looking a little annoyed. “I’ll tell you, only because you figured it out just by looking. Sometimes, you’re just too sharp for your own good.” Ohno takes a sip of his sake and sighs at the taste. “Matsumoto Jun is no longer the legal advisor of my company.”  
  
Sho freezes. Time seems to have stopped, and he doesn’t know how long he stares at Ohno dumbfounded before he regains his composure. “What?”  
  
“Ikuta Toma is the one representing the company now,” Ohno continues, as if he didn’t pause.  
  
“No,” Sho says, unable to believe it. “No, that can’t be.” He looks at Ohno, horrified. “He can’t. He didn’t. Tell me he didn’t.”  
  
“Did what?” Ohno asks.  
  
“Did you confront him?” Sho asks, forgetting about formality and dreading the answer. “What did he tell you?”  
  
“I want you to know that when I asked you that day, I left it at that,” Ohno explains. “I didn’t ask Jun. But for some reason, he was able to sense things, and he showed up in my office last Monday and demanded to know what had happened.” Ohno stares at him. “Did you tell him?”  
  
“I told him nothing,” Sho says, remembering that night. How can he forget? He hurt them both. “I lied to him to keep him from doing something stupid.”  
  
Ohno tilts his head to the side. “Well, that explains it. You see, you aren’t a very good liar.”  
  
Sho’s gaze snaps to Ohno’s face, and Ohno smiles gently.  
  
“Jun’s a lawyer. He’s had years of figuring out when people lie to him. He often tells me there’s usually a pretty good reason why people lie. That it’s up to him to figure out what that reason is.” Ohno munches on a salmon roe sushi this time. “Somehow, he knew you weren’t telling the truth, that there was something else. He asked for a meeting with me, and after I told him I had confronted you, he told me it was all him. That he started it.”  
  
“He didn’t,” Sho says, shaking his head in fierce denial. “Ohno-san, you can’t—”  
  
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says over him, rendering him silent. “That time, I asked you who started it. You said you did. But you’re also not a very convincing liar, and the moment you told me that, I knew.”  
  
Sho slumps in his seat, defeated.  
  
“So when Jun went up to me, he told me everything,” Ohno continues. “And I knew he was telling the truth. He told me not to fire you, that I’d be an idiot if I fire you. He told me he’ll go if it meant keeping you around as Shinonome’s principal.” Ohno smiles. “Jun knew that if I fire you, the board will use it as a reason to have Shinonome back in their hands. He knew that’ll put me at a disadvantage. That’s why he told me. That’s also why I haven’t let you go.”  
  
All the effort he put into not putting Jun at risk, it had been for nothing. Sho feels utterly useless and worthless.  
  
“It’s also why he stepped down as the company’s legal advisor and handed us over in Toma’s good hands,” Ohno adds. “This way, you’re not breaking any unspoken code in the company or any unwritten clause.”  
  
“This way, I keep my job,” Sho concludes, shutting his eyes. Jun did it for him, for Ohno. Jun knew about Takasaki, about Sho’s struggles in starting over. He did what he could to prevent Sho from experiencing that again, and all Sho has done is to hurt him.  
  
He wants to run to where Jun is, to beg for his forgiveness. Jun’s so selfless, always taking him into consideration when he doesn’t have to. It’s Sho who’s had his doubts over what they had; to Jun, it’s been something serious and something he cherished from the beginning.  
  
Sho’s the one who’s been completely insensitive all this time.  
  
“I—” need to go, he doesn’t say. Ohno looks like he understands.  
  
“Before you go,” Ohno says knowingly, “I want you to know that Jun is a very earnest person. I’ve known him for a long time. He’s the type who puts first the people most important to him.” Ohno inclines his head. “Despite our differences over the most trivial things, he is one of my good friends. It’s why I relented and granted his request. He can be persuasive, yes, but I can be very stubborn. Yet I conceded because he asked.” Ohno’s eyes narrow at him. “What is he to you?”  
  
Sho’s known for a long time. He’s called Jun a risk, someone he can no longer associate himself with. But Sho’s an awful liar, and he’s been lying to himself all this time.  
  
“I have to go,” Sho says, standing from his seat. Jun has to know.  
  
Ohno merely hums as Sho excuses himself. He thanks Ohno for the patience and consideration for his case and straightens his trunk.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he tells Ohno anyway. “I can forward the resignation letter if I have to.”  
  
“Shinonome doesn’t mean anything to you now, Kouchou-sensei?” Ohno asks lightly, a smile hidden behind his cup of sake.  
  
“I’ve spent almost a year working to improve Shinonome,” Sho says carefully. “It’s precious to me. If I can, I wish to continue serving as its principal.” He looks at his feet. “But I can’t keep using it as an excuse to hold myself back.”  
  
Ohno is silent for a few moments.  
  
Then: “Go,” Ohno says simply.  
  
Sho takes a step, but he halts. He turns to Ohno, trying to decipher the look on his face.  
  
“Is this really okay?” he asks finally. He’s been wondering the entire time.  
  
“Sho-kun,” Ohno says, smiling a little, “do you need my approval stamp along with my signature?”  
  
Sho smiles back, shaking his head. He bows, going as low as he can. “Thank you.”  
  
Without waiting for Ohno’s response, he spins on his heel and leaves, hailing a taxi that’ll take him to Kanagawa.  
  
\--

He reaches Jun’s house by the sea in the early hours of the morning, and he disembarks from the vehicle despite not seeing a single light turned on in the house.  
  
Calling Jun’s phone yields nothing. Jun never answered any of his calls in the taxi earlier, and he’s yet to receive a reply to any of his texts. Jun is unreachable despite his phone ringing, and Sho walks up to the steps of the house and decides to wait.  
  
The night breeze is cool against the skin when it blows, leaving trails of gooseflesh in its wake. Sho shivers, pulling his suit jacket closer to his body and keeping his knees locked together.  
  
He has no idea if Jun will show up. For all he knows, Jun might be in Tokyo instead, having zero plans of visiting his home during the weekends. But Sho waits, listening to the sound of waves crashing constantly against the shore. It can almost mask the beating of his heart, the underlying fear that it might be too late.  
  
He leans against one of the posts and tries to think of what to say. He reacted on instinct when he left the restaurant to head here. He hasn’t prepared any flowery words; all he knows is that he wants Jun back because letting him go was the wrong decision.  
  
He’ll never be able to live with himself if he doesn’t at least try to mend things with Jun.  
  
The hours pass and Sho dozes off only to wake up shivering. He’ll catch a cold in this state, but checking his phone reveals no missed messages or calls.  
  
His drowsiness disappears when he hears the arrival of a car, and he stands on slightly wobbly legs as he lifts a hand to shield his eyes from the headlights.  
  
It’s a taxi. Sho holds his breath.  
  
It takes more than a few minutes before the door opens, and despite the darkness, Sho knows that silhouette that climbs out of the car.  
  
He can almost feel his heart jumping in his chest at the sight of Jun who’s wrapped in a coat, his hair a mess. His gait is unsteady, footsteps small, and Sho steps forward to help him.  
  
Jun draws back in surprise, eyes wild. Then he refocuses, and Sho takes a good look at his handsome face: he’s drunk and all flushed, breaths rushed.  
  
“No,” Jun says, shaking his head and blinking slowly. “No, you’re not here.”  
  
Sho takes one of Jun’s arms and throws it around his shoulder, and he can feel Jun resist, albeit weakly. “I’m here.”  
  
“What are you doing here?” Jun asks as Sho guides him to the door. “Lost? Shall I call a taxi for you? I just rode one. Maybe you can use it.”  
  
“No,” is all Sho says.  
  
Jun clicks his tongue and fishes for his keys, and it takes him four tries to slot the key in the keyhole before he slumps his forehead against the door and gives up. He drops the keys to the ground, and Sho picks them up without a word.  
  
He opens the door and manages to catch Jun before he stumbles inside, and he’s able to maneuver them both to the couch. He moves methodically, divesting Jun of his jacket and shoes before rushing to the kitchen for a glass of water, which Jun pushes aside.  
  
“Why are you here?” Jun asks again, speech coming out a little slurred. “Feel like fooling around? I’m drunk, so it can be nothing serious, all right?”  
  
His words sting, but Sho presses the glass of water in his hand. “Drink.”  
  
“Are you being nice to me to psyche me up for a one night stand?” Jun asks, but he drinks anyway, eyes drifting shut. “That can be arranged.”  
  
“I’m not here for that,” Sho says.  
  
Jun snorts tiredly, and Sho takes the glass from him before he drops it. “I drank too much earlier.”  
  
“Yeah,” Sho agrees. “That’s really evident.”  
  
Jun ignores him. “Hopefully I won’t remember seeing you when the morning comes.”  
  
Sho looks at him, and Jun seems to have forgotten he’s truly there. That, or he never believed that Sho was waiting for him in Hayama all this time.  
  
“I see you every night when I drink myself to sleep,” Jun blabbers on, his self-control vanishing completely. “Not you, not precisely. The shape of you. The feel, I guess. I don’t know. You’re not really here. That’s how it is every time I wake up after. Since then.”  
  
Jun’s eyes open and he faces Sho slowly. When he reaches out, he closes a hand around Sho’s wrist, and Sho doesn’t dare move away or utter a word. He’s afraid he’ll shatter the moment.  
  
“I miss you,” Jun finally admits, eyes glassy. “I wish you’re really here.”  
  
Jun’s grip slackens, eyes drifting shut, and Sho watches him succumb to sleep in the next moment.  
  
Selfishly, he reaches out and strokes the side of Jun’s face.  
  
Then he stands and starts making preparations, fetching blankets and rearranging the cushions so Jun can rest comfortably. He doesn’t dare do anything more, instead claiming another couch for himself.  
  
He’ll stay until Jun sends him out. He hopes it won’t come to that, but he’ll know in the morning.  
  
Finally, exhaustion seems to catch up with Sho, and after ensuring that the house is secured and locked for the night, he sleeps.  
  
\--  
  
Jun is not a morning person, and with all the alcohol he seemed to have drunk the night before, it’s somewhat expected that Sho wakes up earlier than him.  
  
Sho doesn’t know how to prepare anything else aside from eggs, bacon, and toast, and he makes those while casting glances over his shoulder to check on Jun, who’s completely wrapped in the blankets Sho threw over him last night.  
  
He finishes setting the table along with the food by the time he hears a shuffle followed by a pained grunt, and he returns to the living room to the sight of Jun cradling the side of his skull.  
  
Jun’s head snaps up at the sound Sho’s feet make, and he winces immediately after then glares at Sho like everything is his fault.  
  
“You’re still here,” Jun says after a moment, one eye shut as he battles against his headache. “I didn’t imagine things.”  
  
“No, you didn’t.”  
  
A groan. “I have a hangover,” Jun says as if Sho can’t see it for himself, “so can this be over quick? It’s been a while, anyway. Are you here for the stuff you left? They’re still where you left them, somewhere in the room upstairs.”  
  
Sho thinks of his shampoo bottles and soapboxes in Jun’s bathroom, his extra underwear, sweatshirts, and pants in one of Jun’s drawers.  
  
“I’m not here for them,” he says, taking a tentative step forward. When Jun doesn’t protest, he takes another, followed by another.  
  
“Then what are you here for, Kouchou-sensei?” Jun asks, and he says the words so carefully, as if he has his guard up.  
  
Maybe he has. He’s not looking at Sho, his eyes fixed on the ground. Sho watches him feel around for his glasses, putting them on after he locates them.  
  
“I’m here because Ohno-san told me what you did,” Sho explains, and he sees Jun shut his eyes briefly.  
  
“No need to thank me,” Jun says. “I’m certain your job is very important to you. I simply ensured you get to keep it.”  
  
“I’m also here,” Sho pushes, ignoring the dismissive tone Jun has, “because I realized I’m an idiot. In my defense, I was trying to prevent you from doing what you did. But I really should’ve known nothing could hold you back.”  
  
Jun looks at him, only to look away again. “Is that all?”  
  
Sho’s throat feels too dry, and he swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m also here for you.”  
  
The scoff is unexpected and somewhat scathing. “Oh so suddenly it means something?” Jun asks. “Suddenly it can be something more because you get to keep your job? Now it’s supposed to be okay because you’re still where you have to be? Just like that, you feel like risking it now?”  
  
Sho can’t mask the hurt in his expression. “Is that what you think? That I’m here because my job is secured?”  
  
“You told me I was a risk,” Jun snaps. “You told me you couldn’t keep doing it, having me around. What was I supposed to think?”  
  
“You really think I went all the way here,” Sho says, voice rising in pitch as he loses his temper, “to fool around with you?”  
  
“You’re the one who said it was never serious,” Jun accuses. “You said we were never together, and now you’re telling me you didn’t mean any of that?” Jun laughs, a rather condescending sound. “And now I’m supposed to just be okay with all of that? After everything? Do you even hear yourself?”  
  
Sho pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to think. Obviously, he phrased it all wrong. Jun has every right to be angry, but he’s also being stubborn and is only listening to himself that it annoys Sho.  
  
“I’m not here because I got the reassurance that I can keep my job,” Sho begins, ignoring how Jun rolls his eyes, only to wince after because of his hangover. “I’m here because I realized I have to be here, to talk to you.”  
  
“Okay,” Jun says, nodding. “Let’s talk. Shall we go over how I misinterpreted everything? How I thought it all meant something—”  
  
“It did mean something,” Sho interrupts, and Jun gives him a dark look.  
  
“No, it didn’t,” Jun says in fierce denial that hurts Sho. “I was wrong for thinking that.”  
  
“You weren’t,” Sho insists.  
  
Jun sighs, and he leans back on the couch, looking up. “My head is killing me,” he begins, “so I’ll just ask: what do you want? Is there anything else I can do for you?”  
  
“You already did everything for me,” Sho acknowledges. “And while I’m grateful for it, it’s also the one thing I didn’t want you to do. I told Ohno-san I started it so you get to stay with the company. I told Ohno-san it was me because I didn’t want you to leave.”  
  
“You think I did it for you?” Jun asks. “I did it for Satoshi. He can’t lose Shinonome. You know this. You just happened to play a key role this time.” Jun shuts his eyes. “Don’t give yourself too much credit. I did it for him, not for you.”  
  
The sting Sho feels is so sharp and raw that he has to look away to ground himself.  
  
He finds himself nodding. “I see.”  
  
“Will that be all?” Jun asks.  
  
Sho takes a step back, knowing it’s his cue to go. He wonders if he’s hallucinated last night, if it was some vivid fantasy he’s had after lacking so much in sleep, that he heard Jun say he missed him when he really didn’t.  
  
He figures asking won’t do any more harm; he’s hurting already.  
  
“Last night,” he says, “you said you missed me. That you wish I was really here.”  
  
“I was drunk,” Jun says, emotionless. “As you can see, I’m nursing a hangover.” He glances at Sho once more. “Will that be all?”  
  
I’ve been in love with you this whole time and now you’re never going to know, Sho wants to say. But he can’t form the words, and Jun seems unreachable, so closed off.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says instead. He doesn’t know if Jun is listening, but he continues anyway. “I’m sorry for the things I said. I didn’t mean them. I said them because I was protecting you, or at least I thought I was.” He laughs a little, but not out of amusement. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I know this doesn’t fix anything, that it probably won’t fix anything, but I want you to know that. At least know that.”  
  
Jun doesn’t respond, and Sho gives him a few more seconds, still hoping.  
  
With the lack of any palpable reaction, he gives up. He nods to himself and starts collecting his things, movements methodical and almost robotic. His heart feels heavy, but he knows this is probably for the best. Jun did so much already. It’s selfish to still want to be by his side after everything.  
  
“You said at least,” Jun says, making Sho pause in his movements. “Do you have anything else to say?”  
  
Sho bites on his bottom lip, heart hammering. He tries to quell the hope in him that Jun is actually listening.  
  
“The library,” is what he says instead, having learned over the years that it’s never like what’s in the movies. This is more nerve-wracking than delivering speeches in front of his students.  
  
Jun frowns, looking menacing and annoyed. He’s a little intimidating. “What?”  
  
“I knew then,” Sho says anyway, hoping he’s making sense. “Maybe you’re going to think I’m lying, that I’m saying these just to make fun of you. But that’s when I knew.”  
  
“Knew what?” Jun asks, voice suddenly soft like he’s afraid of what Sho’s about to say.  
  
Sho gets a bump of courage that he has no idea what was the source of. “That I like you. That I know I’m not supposed to, given who you are. But that was when. And somewhere along the way, I ended up—” he moistens his lips, his heart in his throat, “—falling anyway.”  
  
Jun has his face turned away from him, and when he sticks to silence, Sho gets moving once more. He tells himself that at least Jun knows, that he’s got nothing to be regretful for because he’s got the chance to say how he truly feels.  
  
“You know what’s the worst part?” Jun suddenly asks, and Sho halts in his steps. He’s almost out of the living room. “I can always tell when you’re lying.”  
  
Sho blinks, feeling a sting in his ribcage. “I wasn’t lying.”  
  
“No, you weren’t,” Jun says, finally looking at him, expression softening. “I can tell. And I hate that I can tell because I don’t know what to do.” He makes a mess of his hair, frustration evident. “And I also have this stupid fucking headache that makes things worse.”  
  
Sho purses his lips in uncertainty but tries anyway. “I can get an aspirin for you?”  
  
Jun relents with the slightest of head tilts, and Sho rushes to the bathroom to dig through Jun’s medicine cabinet. He finds a tab of aspirin and returns to hand it over along with a glass of water, which Jun accepts in sluggish movements.  
  
“Uh,” Sho tries after a few seconds, “so…”  
  
Jun opens his eyes to glare at him. “What?”  
  
Sho’s stomach drops. “What happens now?”  
  
“I’m still angry,” Jun snaps, and Sho nods.  
  
“You have every right to be,” he agrees.  
  
“You lied to me,” Jun says. “On the phone.”  
  
“Yes,” Sho says.  
  
“You told me it wasn’t serious.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“That it didn’t mean a thing.”  
  
Sho nods. “Yes.”  
  
“I knew you were lying,” Jun tells him. “But that didn’t stop what I felt, you know?” He glares at Sho once more, and Sho feels himself sink a few millimeters shorter under the weight of that stare. “Usually, when someone lies to me, I make them pay in court.”  
  
Sho pales. “Please don’t.”  
  
Jun sighs, running a hand through his hair. Sho aches to touch him but controls himself. “Did you mean it? When you said you like me?”  
  
Sho looks at him, wants to let him know. “Yes.”  
  
“I’m not easy,” Jun says.  
  
“I never said you were,” Sho tells him. He’s prepared to do anything to win Jun back.  
  
“And I’m still angry,” Jun claims.  
  
Sho can only nod. “I know.”  
  
“I want that perfectly clear.”  
  
Another nod. “It is.”  
  
He’s surprised when Jun abruptly rises to his full height and holds his face in his hands, and they’re kissing. Sho ignores their morning breath, drops his things to the floor, and presses close, trying to feel Jun under his fingertips again. It’s been so long and he’s missed Jun so much.  
  
They kiss for a while, breaking apart briefly to meet once more in the middle, and they’re both trying to catch their breaths when Sho whispers once more that he’s sorry for everything. He’s been so stupid. He promises to treat Jun better this time, if Jun wants to try again.  
  
“You’re not yet forgiven,” Jun says.  
  
“I know,” Sho says, but he’s starting to smile, and he can see how the corners of Jun’s mouth are beginning to lift up. “What happens now? What will you do?”  
  
Jun blinks at him, his large brown eyes making him look younger. “Did you think I’m out of a job because I had to give up Satoshi’s company?” Sho can tell he’s on the verge of laughing and he makes an unamused face. “You have no idea how firms work, do you?”  
  
“I’m really worried, okay?” Sho says. “I never asked you to do that. And I never will.”  
  
“I know. But you see, Toma and I have joint clientele. Since he manages Ohno and Associates now, I deal with the rest. It gives me fewer things to do, but I have something to do. I’m still a legal consultant for Satoshi by extension; it’s not like I can trust Toma to know what to do.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m going to be fine. Stop worrying about me.” Jun peers at him, voice turning soft. “How have you been?”  
  
Sho’s feeling great, actually. After knowing that they’re both free to do anything they want this time, he feels free. He looks at Jun and shakes his head to dismiss Jun’s concerns. “I made breakfast.”  
  
“I noticed,” Jun says, but he is yet to step back. His fingers are ticklish against Sho’s jaw, but Sho doesn’t squirm away. “You’re a shitty cook.”  
  
“Your breath sucks,” Sho complains, and Jun draws back to flick him in the forehead. It hurts, and Sho winces, rubbing at the spot.  
  
“I’m very angry now,” Jun says, and he moves away to head to the kitchen.  
  
Sho follows him, and he thinks he’ll weather Jun’s anger over Jun’s disappearance. He promises he won’t let go so easily again, and when their gazes meet, he hopes Jun can hear his sincerity.  
  
“Thank you,” he says, and the look in Jun’s eyes softens.  
  
“Don’t get mushy,” Jun chides, but he doesn’t mean it. “You’re being gross.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Sho says again, and Jun rolls his eyes.  
  
“Sit,” Jun says, “and have shitty breakfast with me.”  
  
Sho’s ego is bruised, but he ignores it in favor of seeing Jun smile when he does as Jun asked.  
  
For Jun, he’ll do so much more.  
  
Sunlight bathes the entire house in its glow, and when Sho sees it reflecting on Jun’s eyes, he knows he isn’t going anywhere.  
  
\--  
  
**Approximately one year ago:**  
  
His fingers tremble.  
  
It’s a somewhat cloudy day in Tokyo today. Sho hasn’t been to Tokyo in months. The last time was perhaps for Tsumabuki’s birthday party, and that had happened at night.  
  
The sparkling marble floors of the company building for Ohno and Associates do nothing to assuage his nerves. He approaches the front desk with cautious steps, showing his temporary ID and informing them of his scheduled interview.  
  
Sho’s only up for the preliminary interviews. He thinks about the competition he’ll arrive at, the number of hopefuls he’ll see and has to outdo.  
  
The woman at the front desk tells him where to go, and Sho heads for the elevators. Each step he takes is overshadowed by the constant drumming of his heart, and he tries to recall Mai’s reassuring words for him.  
  
Tokyo is not Takasaki, he tells himself. It’s become his mantra nowadays, to the point he’ll probably choke on the words one day. He wants this job just as much as he wants to start over, but knows these are things he can’t rush.  
  
The elevator doors open and Sho lifts his head just in time to collide with a man who’s not looking at where he’s going. Sho mumbles an apology out of the corner of his mouth and steps to the side to let the man through before entering the elevator. He presses a button and almost misses it; his nerves are beginning to overpower him.  
  
Inside, he lets out a shuddering breath. When he rests his back against the wall and opens his eyes, the man he bumped against is still standing outside, looking at him. His suit is more expensive than Sho’s (Sho’s on a rental today; if he gets the job, he’ll buy new ones to commemorate the event), his hair coiffed and styled perfectly, thick brows slightly furrowed.  
  
Looking at him is like staring at confidence in the face, something Sho’s lacking at present.  
  
“Your tie’s crooked,” the man says.  
  
Sho can feel his cheeks heat up, and he hastily lowers his briefcase to fix his tie. When he lifts his head, the man smiles.  
  
“Better. Good luck,” he says, and the last thing Sho sees before the elevator doors slide shut is a small dot resting under the man’s lower lip.  
  
Sho thanks him in his head and counts backward from 100, just as the elevator starts to move.  
  
Once he reaches the designated floor for his interview, he’s already forgotten about the encounter.

**Author's Note:**

> The first reference I can remember is the antihistamine one, and in case you didn't catch that, that's a bunch of descriptions about Ohno's Allegra CMs LOL.
> 
> The outfit Sho wore for the foundation night is [this one](https://twitter.com/syo_arashi125/status/981496094390566914) because I'm predictable, and likewise, [this is the one](https://twitter.com/_j_830_/status/1003104716505534464) I had in mind for Jun's. 
> 
> The house Jun has in this fic is a blatant rip-off of his dream home featured in TOKIO Kakeru.
> 
> The shared bracelet is from [this garbage tweet](https://twitter.com/banbi0125rap/status/740168871672315904) that I still adore.
> 
> I just remembered that I included the lemons and the green peppers here, so...the lemons bit is from a recent VSA, and the green peppers is from Nino's appearance in Vivit and from the same VSA.


End file.
